Child
by ShatteredAngelWings
Summary: Hermione is forced to take care of Snape, who's stuck as child. Snape's forced to take care of Hermione, who's stuck as a child. They're both forced to take care of ? who's stuck as a child. Surely, something good will come of this? HGSS Not RW-friendly
1. 1-1

_Child _

_1.1_

_Severus_

HERMIONE GRANGER HAD never been good with kids. Despite having two older brothers who were twenty-five and twenty-three and both married with little ones, she was horrid with kids; somehow, she always made them cry or maybe it was the lack of paitence that hadn't left her since the first year at Hogwarts that made the kids cry. Anyway, Hermione didn't particularly hate kids; no, in fact, she loved them but they always cowered behind angry mothers that spat vicious insults at her for associating herself with "that vile Death Eater"—Severus Snape, to be exact.

Despite this fact that dragged down her relationship with her older brothers, she trusted Severus with every inch of her being. She and the Weasleys had stopped speaking due to this; especially after the particularly horrible breakup with Ron, in which Molly accused her of sleeping with Severus, although their relationship was completely platonic and he would never in a million years think of her as an attractive woman. On top of the accusation, Molly had the gall to send her several dozen Howlers per week, calling her a "disgrace to her family" and that she was "no longer welcome at the Burrow".

To be honest, Hermione was a complete mess. She spent weeks crying over being called a "cheating girlfriend" and whispered about behind her back. The twins knew that Ron had lied but when they tried to convince their mother, she just about blew a blood vessel screaming at them.

As of now, Hermione was just getting out of the bathroom from bawling her eyes out after another Howler when she ran into the man she _really _didn't want to see her like this. Despite a quick charm to reduce the puffiness of her bloodshot eyes and the tearstains on her face, she knew she looked terrible. Her hair was a mangled mess of tangles again, sticking up every way and frizzy like she'd stuck her wand in an electric socket; her skin was paler than Severus's by far due to how much time she spent indoors crying these days and she was thin, terribly so, seeing as she had no desire to eat much when she saw Ron's arm draped across the back of Lavender Brown.

Now, Lavender Brown had matured after the War and was kind to everyone but still harbored a crush on Ron, which he used to his advantage and cheated on Hermione with her. Hermione, though, didn't hate Lavender because she found out Ron had lied about breaking up with her to Lavender.

"Miss Granger," Severus said quietly, "Are you feeling well? You don't look so…healthy."

"I'm not sure. I just received a thirteenth Howler from Molly." She sighed and scrubbed at her face, willing herself not to cry. "I can't take it anymore," she whispered quietly. "I'll have her letters warded against," Severus assured her in the soft, hushed tones he only used with her. Hermione smiled weakly and laughed quietly as tears began to dribble down her sunken cheeks.

"He lied to his mother about our breakup. Switched around the roles, the little devil did. He told Molly I cheated on him, broke his heart, _played _him. She was so furious!" He reached out with a handkerchief and she dabbed her face on it tentatively. "Thank you," she mumbled as she went to hand it back to him. He held her fingers closed around the fabric.

"She'll receive a few letters back," he told her with nasty look in his eyes. He then got to his feet, looked at her closely with soft eyes, and said, "He is a fool to cheat on a beautiful, talented young witch." He turned and walked away.


	2. 1-2

_OOC Draco. Mentions of DM/HP. _

_Draco is a good guy in this. _

* * *

_Child_

_1.2_

_Severus _

HERMIONE GNAWED THE gnarled tips of her messy hair as she scrawled down her essay for Potions; namely, ten ways to use Fluxweeed leave. Her mind was whirring with the man who'd complimented her for the first time since she found out she was witch. She glanced up at the man in question: Severus Snape. He prowled the room with liquid grace, his black robes billowing slightly against his lean frame, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

He wasn't dreadfully unattractive; in fact, if he loosened up a bit and wasn't so snarky, he could have any witch he wanted. Hermione stopped writing, smoothed down her hair and stared hard at her paper as Snape snarled at Neville's poor Calming draught.

The Gryffindor princess looked up and studied the man. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and graceful limbs that reminded her of a dangerous big cat. His skin was the color of porcelain, his hair as black as ebony, a thin mouth the color of a pastel pink rose, and black eyes that never failed to fascinate her. He wore black all the time, hence the nickname "the dungeon bat", but she mused that it suited him.

He wore thick, heavy robes that looked silky to the touch and very warm in the drafty dungeons of Slytherin; underneath the robes, he wore a long black coat, crisp black trousers, black shirtsleeves and black loafers. Even in layers of clothing, he moved with grace that left her looking like a bow-legged moose as prowled the room. "Miss Granger, stop staring and work on your essay," he told her calmly and she turned red as she realized she'd been caught staring.

She ducked her head and scrawled hurriedly, squeezing in the last six inches onto the precise forty-eight inches of parchment. With flourish, she signed her name at the top and laid it on his desk gently, neatly rolled and tied with a silver string. For the rest of class, she stared at the once Dark wizard.

Several times, Ginny elbowed her in the ribs to keep Hermione from getting caught but that did nothing to stop the brightest witch of her generation from staring at the professor. Finally, the bells chimed, signaling the end of class and the students, eager with the weekend, all but sprinted out of the room. Hermione lingered as Luna's wavy long hair vanished from sight, her dreamy voice speaking of Three Broomsticks fading into silence.

Hermione bit her lip and glanced at Severus. "Miss Granger," he said coolly, adjusting the high neck of his coat, "is there something you want?" She hesitated, opened her mouth, and then closed it. "No, Professor, there isn't."

His dark eyes regarded her carefully as he brought a Pewter cauldron off the counter and settled up in the shelf below. His hands, long, thin and calloused with scars and ink stains, lay flat against the counter as he watched her.

Hermione, as she walked out, thought back to how their friendship, albeit a strange and quiet one at that, had blossomed.

_Child_

When the war's debris settled, Hermione had picked her way to the Shrieking Shack to find Severus coughing up blood and immediately stuffed a bezoar down his throat to keep the venom from racing through his veins. She had held him until Minerva stumbled in with seven Ministry officials, who promptly Apparated Hermione and Severus to St. Mungo's. While she was treated for a fractured wrist, concussion, several nasty gashes and head trauma, Severus was being drained of the venom that raced from the bite and mediwitches were mending his broken bones and fixing his nasty, bleeding wounds.

Hermione had stayed by his side the entire time, stroking his hair, telling him everything would be okay as he healed slowly from Nagini's deadly venom. She'd cried hard enough to need a Calming draught from one of the mediwitches and, after she calmed down considerably, Minerva made her way into the room. She questioned Severus under the influence of Veritaserum and Hermione heard first-hand of Dumbledore's true plans for him.

Severus had said nothing after the Headmistress left, simply rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes. Hermione ran out of the room before she collapsed in the hallway in tears, sobbing and choking on the thick sobs. A mediwitch forced into a bed and slammed a vial of Dreamless Sleep draught down her throat.

Over the next two months, Severus returned to Hogwarts and taught in the Dark Arts position, much to the chagrin of many parents. They cried out against a Death Eater, albeit _reformed _but they didn't seem to care, teaching Dark Arts to the students but Minerva simply ignored them. "Let them take their children out," she answered calmly when Flitwick attempted to pursue the discussion.

Most of the seventh years decided to drop out, although some, such as Hermione and Luna and Ginny, decided to stay and graduate instead of using their veteranship in the war to get jobs. During the mid-way mark of their first semester, an idea rolled through the students. Forms for apprenticeships floated through the air. Neville, of course, took Herbology; Luna, unsurprisingly, took Care of Magical Creatures; and Hermione, after some debate, took up Dark Arts with Snape. At first, he treated her as he had first years, making rude remarks about her hair and such, and then, when she decided to treat him exactly how he treated her, he started to change.

He was softer towards her, allowed himself to respond to her banters; he seemed to love to taunt her endlessly. Their relationship shifted from student and teacher to a budding friendship.

* * *

Hermione sighed to herself quietly, gnawing on her lip. "Keep doing that, Hermione, and all the boys will be on their knees for you," drawled a familiar voice and she turned to see Draco Malfoy standing against the wall, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hair messy like he'd rolled out of bed. "Hello, Draco," she replied coolly to her new comrade as he fell into step beside her.

He draped his long arm across her shoulders. Although he was a boy, they had a close relationship that would rival a brother and sister. She found out after the war that he was secretly dating Harry and found, although many of the parents frowned upon the boy, that she didn't mind the slights; in fact, it made it easier to be around him without worrying of him hitting on her.

She rested her head against his side. "I wish I could say something to him about how I feel but whenever I try, my tongue gets tied up." The girl groaned loudly and then let out a scream as Draco scooped her up. "Fear not my fair maiden—" He burst into laughter suddenly. "I'm sorry," he said between laughs as tears glittered prettily in his grey eyes. She smacked his arm but smiled softly.

Hermione felt so happy with him, relaxed and at ease, comfortable. She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. "I wish I wasn't such a chicken," she whispered as the pair made their way down the hall, unaware of an intruder slipping into the Death Eater's classroom unnoticed and placing an envelope entitled _Severus S._


	3. 1-3

**Severus POV.**

* * *

_1.3_

_Child_

_Severus_

ALL SEVERUS COULD hear was noise, loud noise, and then a girl's voice. "Professor?" He felt sick to his tummy, like he was gonna throw up all over himself and then Daddy would get mad at him and—

He squeezed his eyes shut with a tiny whimper and balled up his hands. _Big boys don't cry, _he told himself firmly before pushing his hands against the ebony that enveloped him. A slant of light cut through the blackness, making his eyes sting slightly. A pair of cinnamon colored eyes peered down at him. "Sir?" said the girl's voice and then a pair of tanned hands reached in and wrapped around the fabric, prying it apart like a giant fish mouth.

The first he noticed was her eyes. They were the colored of cinnamon, with wide pupils and long, pretty eyelashes that his mommy had. He then noticed her skin, a lovely, dark-tanned color from staying in the sun too much with a few freckles on the backs of her hands and her left cheek; finally, he noticed her light-brown, almost honey-colored, hair in a long, straight sheet that ran down her spine.

The girl lifted her hands and covered her face like she was crying. She wasn't very tall, he noticed, and just a few pounds curvy like Mommy. She wore long, black robes with a blood-red hood; on her left breast was a crest with four animals in each corner and different colors.

In the top corner was a lion with gold and maroon; in the left top corner was a silver snake ready to strike with a background of green—he really like that one—; in the bottom right was a bronze eagle with a background of blue, a pretty royal blue that made him wish his eyes were that color; and, in the last corner, was a badger surrounded by black and yellow.

"I'm going to ask you a question, okay?" the pretty girl said, squatting down to his level. She looked into his eyes. "Are you Severus Snape? And what's your father's name?" He was surprised that such a beautiful girl knew his name but nodded slowly and spoke carefully. "Tobias Snape."

She swayed. "Oh dear god," she groaned loudly as though she were exasperated. With a flick of a long, brown stick, he found himself dressed in a small coat that hit his knees, black trousers and black shoes. "Come here please," said the girl, holding out her hands.

"Tell me your name," he said boldly, surprising himself with his courage. The girl's lips thinned into a sharp line and, for a moment, he thought she was going to hit him like Daddy. But she relaxed, although she remained a bit tense, and answered in a quivering voice, "You truly have no recollection of who I am?"

Severus shook his head slowly. "Should I?" he asked and immediately regretted his words as her lips quivered and her eyes looked glassy, as though she were about to cry. "No," she whispered in a raspy voice, cleared her throat twice and looked him in the eyes. Light crossed her long eyelashes, turning them a soft amber color, her eyes turning the color of coco powder. "My name is Hermione Jean Granger. I'm a seventh-year witch at Hogwarts."

Severus's eyes widened. "_Witches are real_?" he blurted out in shock, his eyes bulging and Hermione Granger laughed softly, a sound that he wouldn't have minded listening to for days. "Yes, Severus. Now, take my hand, that's it." He liked how she was softly speaking to him and how she smelled like she'd lit cinnamon-apple candles as she took his hand.

"We're going to go see my friend, Minerva McGonagall. She's very nice, even if she looks a bit mean," Hermione Granger said with a wink and he stared at her long, curly hair as she turned her head towards the door. They walked hand-in-hand, Severus staring at the stone walls that smelled like wet cement on a chilly day; the fire of the torches mesmerized him endlessly and he saw a hunched old man with long, stringy grey hair scowling at him.

"Granger!" barked the man and Severus darted behind Hermione's legs, hackles raised. The man reminded him of Daddy when he came home stumbling and slurring his words. "Argus, not now."

"You brought a _kid _to Hogwarts, you little brat?" the man hissed. "No, I didn't," Hermione said calmly, crossing her arms and looking strong like a princess standing up against a mean old dragon. "I need to go see—Professor McGonagall! Professor!" She clasped his hand and pulled him along quickly; her robes blinded him momentarily.

"Miss Granger! Good afternoon! And who is this young man?" asked a quiet voice. Severus wanted nothing more than to bury his face in Hermione's warm leg but forced himself to peer around her thigh. Making his way around her legs, brushing off his trousers, he stared up at the tall, regal woman with feline eyes and dark hair pulled into a strict bun. She wore long, deep emerald robes and a hat of matching color on her head; she reminded him of a giant piece of broccoli.

Her calm brown eyes stared at him unnervingly. "Professor, this is Severus. He's been turned into a child! There—there was a-an envelope open on his desk and this is Snape! I mean—" Hermione stopped talking when the woman put her hand on Severus's head and he felt warmth trickle down his back. "What did you do?" the young girl asked.

The emerald woman gazed at him curiously, a small twitch in her mouth. "It is Severus. He's been placed under an old aging jinx. I'm afraid he's going to be like this for a few days until it wears off," she sighed deeply. "Hello, Severus. My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall but you may call me Minerva."

"Like the Greek goddess?" Severus quipped. The woman's mouth smiled softly. "Yes," she said thoughtfully, "like the goddess. We'll have to get Albus and explain to him the situation." There was a burst of loud noise and a rush of black robes spilled out of the rooms beside them; Severus soon found himself being swept away with the tide.

A boy with glossy white-blond hair stooped to his level and smiled. "What are you doing here, little guy?" he asked Severus as he stood up and looked around. "Where are your parents?" Now that he said it, Severus realized he had no idea where Mommy and Daddy were. A lump formed in his throat and he willed himself not to cry.

To his dismay, a tear leaked down his cheek. "Hey there, it's ok. Getting lost is scary, I know. I got lost loads of times here. It's a big place," the blonde boy murmured almost wistfully. "I'm Draco Malfoy. What's your name?" He held out a ringed hand to Severus, who took it and was pulled to his feet in one smooth tug.

"Severus."

Draco glanced to his left. "My Godfather's name is Severus. A peculiar but strong name for a good man," he added thoughtfully seeing Severus's expression.

"Who did you come here with?"

Severus wiped his hands.

"She said her name was Hermione Jean Granger and she was a seventh-year witch at Hogwarts. Where are we?" Severus asked as they walked in synch. "Hogwarts," laughed Draco. Severus stared up at him. He sure was tall. When he was all grown up, he wanted to be tall like that too. And handsome. He thought of his big nose and snorted; what girl would want him in ten years with his giant nose taking up half his face?

"What's wrong?" the blonde inquired as they rounded a corner. Glancing outside through the hole that served as a window cut out of the wall, Severus saw the bright sunshine gleaming off blades of emerald grass and a still lake. "When I grow up," Severus admitted shyly, "I want to be tall and handsome like you. Daddy always said my nose was too big for my face. The girls at school like to make fun of it." Draco's lips curled up into a grin. "I've found out that, most of the time, attractive guys and girls treat others like total—" He paused. "—Poop," he finished lamely.

"A guy who's physically appealing to the eye may treat a girl like trash opposed to a not-so-appealing-to-the-eye man who treats her like a princess," he pressed on, meeting Severus's eyes with his slate-grey ones. "I used to be like that," he said quietly, "but then I changed. I grew up. I realized that girls don't like guys who are jerks to them so I changed to be kinder. My brushes with Death helped shape my present self too, I suppose."

They walked in silent for a while. A single thought took up residence in Severus's brain and grew and grew until he felt like he was going explode all over the walls. "Draco," he blurted, "do you think any girl will ever want me?"

"Severus!"

He felt a tug in his stomach and his heart fluttered nervously at the sound of Hermione's voice. "You know," drawled Draco as Hermione rounded the corner and cried out. "Severus!"

Draco was smiling softly at Hermione, a strange expression in his eyes. "I think a girl will want you." Hermione ran up to them, panting, her skin glittering slightly with sweat. Severus thought she looked like she'd been bathed in diamond dust.

"Severus, there you are!" Her once glossy hair was slightly frizzy, damp at the temples, and she smelled faintly of the metallic tang of sweat. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Hello, Draco." She moved forward and embraced the blonde; over her shoulder, Draco smiled at Severus.

She must've murmured something in his ear because he said, "I know," and looked straight Severus. Hermione started slightly as they broke apart. "Well, I'll see you guys around," Draco said with a wave of his long fingers and then he was gone, his robes billowing behind him. Hermione held Severus's hand.

As they walked, he wondered if she really _was _looking all over for him. Hermione glanced down at him and smiled softly. When she looked away, he grabbed his chest.

Why was his heart pounding so fast when she looked at him? Why did he feel so jittery next to her, holding her hand?

More importantly, what did she say to Draco that made him look at Severus in such a way?


	4. 1-4

_Child_

_1.4_

_Severus_

MANY OF HER professors told her how cute Severus was, who she claimed was her little cousin just to keep the story simple, patted him on the head and handed him some sort of candy. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, leaning against her, his head rested on her hip.

Even as a child, Severus was tall and lanky. While his were closed, she studied him. His skin reminded her of porcelain, smooth and ivory-pale; his eyes were framed by long, outrageously thick eyelashes that were a strike contrast against his skin; his eyes themselves were dark like bitter chocolates; and his hair, although greasy-looking, was as black as ebony itself, the color of a dark winter's night when the moon hid itself. It fell into two long, thick curtains that were parted perfectly down the center and framed his face.

He was tall, the height of her hip, and thin, but not overly so, more of the gangly seven-year-old kind. He was long-limbed like his adult self, with calloused fingers like a skeleton and sharp elbows; his legs, although thin as they were, strong and lean, capped with graceful feet. Surely, at seven, he would be stumbling all over the place but he wasn't; he was just as graceful as he was at thirty-eight.

"Severus," she asked him as they walked down to the Great Hall for lunch, "how old are you?" Severus paused in step, his eyebrows furrowing above his deep-set eyes before he replied. "Seven. I'm almost eight though," he added with a tiny smile, reminding her of a shy angel. "You're very tall for your age," she told him as they stepped into the Great Hall, the chattering of the few students a cacophony of quiet murmurs and pieces of laughter.

"Wow," breathed her professor, now child, as they walked towards her table. "Who's this handsome young man?" purred Pansy, slinking closer. No longer the snarky little Slytherin who'd attempted to show Voldemort Harry Potter during the Final Battle, she grew into an athletic, shorthaired witch who loved to brew jokes on people with the help of her fiancé, George Weasley, who came around from time-to-time to visit with the latest toy in the joke shop.

"This is Severus, my little cousin," Hermione answered automatically as Severus stood to his full height, chest puffed out, and held out his hand. When he took Pansy's ringed hand, he kissed the back gently. "Lovely to meet you," he said and Hermione saw a spark of her old professor.

"I'm Pansy. How's it going with Molly?"

"She still hates me. Sends Howlers every chance she gets but Professor Snape said he'd put a ward against them when he got the chance," Hermione answered carelessly, settling down beside the Slytherin girl. "Snape? My last name is Snape!" Severus said, reaching for a turkey leg. He filled his plate with vegetables, fruits and meats; not to the point of over-flowing, Hermione noted with a smile, just the right portions for his body, but the smile faded when she saw Pansy's confused expression.

"Pansy, I need to speak with you privately. Draco, would you mind keeping Severus company?" Hermione said. The blonde grinned. "Not at all, your Highness," he snickered as he gracefully swept onto the bench. With a roll of her eyes, Hermione dragged Pansy towards the entrance.

"That little boy in there isProfessor Snape. Someone's hexed him, Minerva asked me to take care of him since it's too old to cure for right now. She's seen it before, it seems." Pansy smiled softly. "I guessed that much. With that greasy hair and big nose, who could miss him?" she asked gently. "He seems very attached to you," she added thoughtfully.

"He's so nice as a child, a bit odd but nice. I can't believe Sirius, James, Remus and Peter treated him so terribly when he was in Hogwarts," Hermione sighed wistfully as they made their way back. Her heart stopped at the sight of three red Envelopes sitting there. Her eyes darted to Draco, who nodded and pulled Severus up, ushering the boy out of the room. With a deep breath, the brightest witch of her age flicked open the three Howlers and Molly Weasley's voice bellowed from the paper.

"How dare you, you little trollop, break my Ron's heart? He has done nothing but be kind to you, given you everything you could've wanted—" _Except his hands to himself, _she thought dryly. "—and you go and _cheat _on him with a _Professor_? You should be ashamed to call yourself a Granger! I've told your parents and they're coming here today and I'm so ashamed of you! You should've saved yourself for Ron, he deserves you!" The Howler exploded in a shower of fire.

The next one continued.

"I can't believe you! You're nothing but a disgrace to wizard women everywhere! I though maybe you had a head on your shoulders but you're no better than that little whore Slytherin you hang around!" Ron's voice was louder than his mother's. "She must be teaching you all sorts of vile acts to use on Snape! The least you could've done is pick a guy who _isn't _greasy and old and ugly! I mean, hell, Seamus is prettier than that old bat!"

Hermione was surprised he sent a Howler. Normally, he sulked about when he was upset.

"How could you? He's ugly as a troll! With that stupid hair, giant nose, crooked teeth and pasty skin, no woman would ever want him!" Hermione laughed humorlessly. He had no idea that she wanted to be with Severus more than anything. "I know you want me," His voice oozed with confidence. "Every woman wants me. But I only want you. I _always _get what I want."

The second burst into ashes. Finally, the third Howler opened. The twins' voices, singing merrily, rang through the hall.

"Good day to you, Hermy-o-nee!" sang Fred. "A very good morning to you as well, Hermy!" cried George, laughing hysterically as something exploded in the background. "We want to tell that you guys are our OTP!" Hermione's face went red. "OTP is an Internet term for _One True Pairing, _or so Susan Bones, who's dating Millicent Bullstrode by the way, says." Fred let out a loud cackle as something fizzed in the background and a child screamed with laughter. "WE SHIP YOU GUYS!" The message ended with the twins singing, "_SEVVY AND HERMY, SITTING IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N—" _The message cut off, thankfully and Hermione laughed so hard, tears ran down her face.

After the first two Howlers, she had been so certain the last one would be the same and it was a welcomed change in which she lost her sadness.

Severus slipped back inside, watched her for a few moments, and then held her hands as he tentatively ate.

She noticed how his hand fit in hers so rightly.


	5. 1-5

I have no idea what happened. It was going to be cute and fluffy and ended up sad and fluffy. I don't know. No flames, ok? Hermione is OOC. Sorry.

* * *

_Child_

_1.5_

_Severus _

IT WASN'T EVEN half an hour when Severus became restless and paced up and down in Hermione's room. Until he returned to his previous age, he was staying with her and they took turns outside while the other changed. Hermione glanced up at her potions master and set down her quill.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm bored."

The curly-haired witch smiled into her arm as she set the book down and stood up. "Would you like to meet Fred and George?" she asked and Severus nodded rather eagerly; his face full was of excitement. "The boys who singing in that letter, right?" he said quietly as they walked out of her dorm.

She went red. "Yes," she answered with a tiny laugh that made her feel lighter. "Who's Molly?" Hermione bit back a sigh. "My mum," said a voice she really didn't want to hear. Stiffening, she turned to her ex-boyfriend. Ron smiled at but it held all the charm of a cobra as he eased forward and stared down her robes.

She crossed her arms, thought better of it when she realized it made her breasts more prominent, and drew her robes closed further. "What do you want?" she hissed venomously as he tilted his head and his eyes ran up and down her body. Severus gripped her hand.

"Let's go see Fred and George," he whispered quietly to her and she nodded, eyes never leaving the traitorous, lying man in front of her. "Why?" snarled Ron, "so you can go screw with them as well, you little whore?"

"I am _not _a whore!" she shrieked back, magic crackling around her dangerously. She glared at him until she felt a tug on her hand; glancing down, she saw Severus pulling her away, drawing her towards the doors.

"Now you're fooling around with little boy?" sneered Ron, his tone mocking. "How _dare _you!" Hermione growled as she went for her wand but Severus pulled her hand hard, making her stumble. "Let's get out of here before you get expelled," he said to her softly, his dark eyes gazing up at her closely. She managed a nod and they tore out of the hall.

"I'm so sorry—" Hermione began but Severus cut her off. "You aren't a whore, Hermione. I don't think you like little kids either," he said calmly, rubbing circles against her hand with his thumb, his dark eyes meeting hers. In his gaze, she sees the strong, Dark wizard she knew. Straightening her shoulders, she wrapped her arms around him and Apparated to Diagon Alley.

* * *

Weasley and Weasley's Joke Shop was loud, filled with giggling children at every corner. Something that emitted musical sparks whirled passed Hermione's ear and, when it exploded in a rainfall of sparks that sang "Weasley Is Our King", there came a wave of uproarious cheer. An Exploding Whizz Popper burst near her ear and she stumbled, bumping into Severus.

"It's very loud in here!" he yelled over the noise of several Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs going off. Hermione wrapped an arm around Severus quietly and lead him to the back of the store; the noise thinned out until it was a distant murmur. "And _that_, my dear, is Love potion," said George, examining the heart-shaped bottle a young girl of eight years of age held. She was pretty, with long, bouncy girl that gleamed like copper and her skin was golden from too much sunlight.

"Trust me," Hermione butt in, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder. "If you just ask him, I doubt he'd say no. You're very pretty, any guy would be lucky to have such a gem," she whispered in the girl's ear. The girl looked ready to cry. "I'm not," she croaked. "All the third-years make fun of me," she said, "and they call me Thunder Thighs and Carrot Top."

"Are they boys?"

The girl slowly nodded. Hermione grinned and shook her head. "They like you," she told her, "but they think showing their feelings is girly so they pretend to hate you. That's how it was with a lot of my friends." Hermione forced a laugh, locking the rising sadness of being isolated in her second year in the _Do Not Think About It _file. The girl looked brighter.

"Thanks!"

She skipped off and Hermione didn't miss the way Severus stared at her bum. George turned to her, spread his long wiry arms and engulfed her in a hug. He smelled like burnt gunpowder and sweets. "It's so good to see you, Holey," she joked weakly as she pulled away to tilt her head back and watch him.

Severus gasped as Fred turned to him, revealing that he had only one ear. With the way his red hair was gelled up in spikes, it was hard to miss the fact he was missing an ear. "I got hurt," he said calmly, a smile on his face as his twin, Fred, walked up and smothered Hermione in a hug.

He smelt like wood shavings and chocolate biscuits. When she pulled away, he was grinning down at Severus, who examining a bottle of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder meticulously. He threw Fred a scowl before saying, in a familiar Snape-fashion, "You use Lacewings in this?"

He sounds impressed.

"As well as Darkness Powder," added George with a grin. "How did you make the Instant then?" demanded Severus. "Will you look at that?" Fred laughed, "We have ourselves a Mini-Professor Snape!" roared George as they burst into laughter that had tears running down their faces. Hermione stiffened. "Why do you guys keep calling me Professor Snape? I'm just _Severus Snape! _Not that I'd ever be a professor; not enough potential for that kind of thing at all," Severus murmured to himself.

Hermione wrapped an arm around him while mouthing their situation. "There once was a great man," began Fred, kneeling to Severus's level and placing a hand on his shoulder, "he was a Slytherin. He seemed to hate everything and everyone. He had long black hair and sallow skin. He was cruel and spiteful but…" George knelt down too, taking Severus's hands and clasping them.

"…he was the bravest man I ever knew," Hermione, George and Fred whispered together and Hermione wanted to cry so very badly. Severus's hands tightened around hers.

"He was Headmaster," George said, breathing deeply.

"He was Dark Arts teacher," whispered Fred, his brown eyes resting on Severus's dark ones.

"He was a genius at Potions. He was the smartest man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, Severus," Hermione choked out, her eyes stinging with tears and a lump blocking her voice in her throat.

"Everyone hated him, though. They thought he was evil."

Hermione cut in, barely blinking back tears. "He was branded a coward." She knelt down as the twins stood slowly, their knees crackling loudly. "He was brilliant; the most extraordinary man I've ever known." She was so close to crying but pressed forward. "But he was cold and kept his distance. At the end, his loyalties were tested." She bit her lip, sucked in a breath and met the child's eyes, flickering with intelligence and maturity.

"He was a spy, Severus. He was the line between good and evil and he walked it every day," George whispered. "He was Dumbledore's spy," Hermione continued, her hands tracing the lines in Severus's palms. "He was Dumbledore's spy against the Dark Lord. He walked that fine line each day. He was loyal and courageous. Even when everyone hated him, called him a killer, he was loyal to our side, to good."

Hermione stared into his eyes.

"His name was Severus Tobias Snape…" Her throat clenched. "…And, although Harry branded him a coward, he was, probably, the bravest man I ever knew."1

She bursts into tears and, much to her surprise; Severus wraps his arms around her. She cries for herself, for Dobby, for James and Lily, she cries for herself, she cries for the parents who forgot about her for a whole year to keep them safe…

But, mostly, she cries for Severus.

* * *

1 _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, _JK Rowling,


	6. 1-6

A tiny bit of angst. Also, the more the spell wears off, the older he gets.

* * *

_Child_

_1.6_

_Severus _

THEY STOPPED AT Honeydukes to buy Fizzing Whizzbees, No-Melt Ice Cream, Pumpkin Pasties, Toffees, Sugar Quills, Exploding Bonbons and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. "Was that man," Severus whispered over his Ice Mouse, his cloudy breath floating into the air, "that really was me?"

Hermione bit into her pumpkin pasty, her stomach fluttering nervously. She knew it wouldn't be long until he returned. Sighing, she nibbled her pasty. "Yes," she admitted quietly, rubbing her sticky hands on her robes. "You weren't always a child, Severus. You were a strong, quiet forty-year-old man but, unfortunately, someone used an old aging jinx that wears off eventually," she explained as he stopped suddenly.

"Hermione," he said quietly, "I'm sorry that I've been such a bother." "You weren't—aren't a bother, Severus," she argued as they stopped outside the gates. "But—" Her child professor caught his lower lip between his teeth. She shook her head and pushed open the Hogwarts gates, gesturing for him to hurry up.

"You are _never_ a bother to me."

* * *

She had just changed into her pajamas, pink flannel and cozy socks, when Severus knocked. Opening the door, he shuffled in and sighed as he flopped down on the bed. The black pajama bottoms he wore pooled at his feet, the hem dragging across the ground but he paid it no mind as he stared at her with the intensity of his adult self.

"What's wrong?" She glanced down at her girly pajamas.

"What will happen once I return to normal?" he asked calmly as she sat down beside him, running a brush through her hair. Slowly, the hair charms wore off and her locks became bushy and wild like when she was in first-year; then, she had been a bushy-haired, buck-toothed know-it-all that annoyed everyone.

"Nothing," she said despite the lump in her throat. "Nothing will happen. Everything will go back to normal; I will study, you will teach and nothing more," she whispered. His hand touched hers, his skeletally long fingers curling between hers.

His skin was so pale lying next to hers; it looked like porcelain compared to her golden tan. "What if it doesn't?" he asked quietly, "what if something _does _change when I return to normal?" His warm breath smelt like spearmint toothpaste and it was distracting. She looked behind me and smiled softly. "Severus," she said quietly, "look outside." He turned away slowly, only to let out an amazed noise and rush to the window, pressing his face to the glass as the snow fell gentle.

"It's so beautiful," Hermione mused. Without taking his eyes off the dark, white-speckled sky, he replied, "So are you." Her cheeks warmed at the compliment as she stared at his long, black hair; the light from the moon spilled across his head and he seemed to glow.

"I'm going to bed, Severus," she said quietly and turned away, pulling back the covers. "Christmas is in two days, Hermione," said the boy at the window gently, his quiet voice no more than a whisper. Hermione cracked an eye open, gazing at his long, lean figure, his hands on the glass, almost blending into the snowy scene. He reminded her of a gothic, male Snow White, with fair skin, hair as black as ebony and lips as red as blood.

"I know." She hid her face in the warm pillow as the blanket was peeled back again and Severus slipped into the bed, his cold skin making her shiver. "Merry almost Christmas," whispered Severus against her collarbone.

The sensation of his long fingers stroking her scarred arm was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

Hermione left Draco to keep Severus occupied while she bough his Christmas present with the help of Albus. "Something he can use, something he enjoys," murmured the witch as her headmaster held up a small chess set. "He did enjoy chess, if I remember correctly," she whispered quietly, purchasing the chess set and tucking it into her bag.

They were passing a bookstand when one of the books caught her eye; a medium-sized black, leather-bound book with ties along the spine and a lock and key clasp to keep it closed. There was a quill tucked into the binding by a small strap. "He'd love this," she breathed to Albus, who nodded and wandered off across the way to buy some sweets.

She paid for the book and carefully placed it inside her bag; turning around, Hermione made her way back to Albus, who was unwrapping a Chocolate Frog. "He said, before the hex, that he was needing a new notebook," Albus said softly.

Now silent, they made their way back. At the gates, though, Albus placed a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful, Miss Granger. Severus may treat you different once he returns to his adult form," the old wizard warned her and her heart fluttered. "I know." She pushed the gates open, the wards rippling as they slipped into the grounds.

"I know."

She tried to ignore the twinge of disappoint in her chest.

* * *

She hardly spoke when she returned; instead, she busied herself with wrapping his presents in silver and green paper and hiding them with a Disillusion charm. "Where did you go?" Severus demanded when he walked in, wearing a loose button-down shirtsleeve and rumpled slacks; his hair was pulled back with gel, revealing a high forehead and thin eyebrows. A few strands refused to lay flat and fell into his face, giving him a disheveled appearance.

"Out with Albus," Hermione chirped, missing the annoyed expression on his pale face. "Who's _Albus_?" he sneered suddenly, reminding her painfully of his older self, "your little boyfriend?" She jerked away, eyes widening, mouth gaping. "Severus!" she cried, outraged when he stormed out and slammed the door behind him. Tears fell onto her hands without her realizing and soon, her hands reeked of salty tears and felt sticky. She wiped her face with her sleeve, dragged herself to her feet.

"Hermione?" whispered a voice and she saw Draco stick his head in. "Severus—" Hermione's voice broke. "I know, love, I know. He came out angry, his face turning red, and burst into tears. I haven't seen him since he ran off." Draco slipped into her room and eased her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and cried softly until she fell into sleep.

* * *

Severus scowled down at his reflection with hate. He was freezing in the ankle-deep snow but could care less. He glowered at the long, crooked nose; the stringy ebony hair that made him look unwashed and girly; his pasty skin; his sleepy black eyes but mostly, he glared at his mouth. Such vile things had spilled from his mouth, things he didn't mean to say, things that made Hermione cry.

He dug his fingers into the snow, ignoring the biting pain of the cold and let the tears fall. He cried for everyone and everything. He cried for his mother, who was black and blue every night with bruises on her thighs and around her neck; he cried for his drunk of a father; he cried for turning into a child and not remembering anything; he cried because he was cold; he cried because he hurt Hermione.

"I'm sorry," he rasped out. The angry heat that had curdled in his stomach had vanished and he was swaying on his hands and knees; his mouth wasn't working and he couldn't stop crying. "Severus," whispered Hermione's voice as something warm draped over his back and around his shoulders, locking across his collarbone. He recognized the voice even before he dared to look up.

Hermione's hair was frizzy and cold against his cheek but the rest of her was hot like fire and he leaned into her heat, relishing the way the feeling of his skin returned. "You're soaked," the witch whispered in his ear as she pulled him to his feet. Stumbling on numb feet, he grasped her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Hermione's sharp gaze cut through his. "I'm really, really sorry, Hermione. I never should've said any of those things." She smiled softly. "You were upset," she answered. "You look older. Maybe the spell is wearing off." The cold breeze bit his wrists and something on his left arm caught his attention.

Through the soaked sleeve of his shirt, he saw a skull with a snake weaving through its eyes and mouth branded upon his skin. _What on Earth_, he thought, stumbling after her, _is this mark on my skin?_

* * *

"How old are you now?" Hermione was bent over her trunk, rummaging through it for a spare set of robes. She could feel Severus's sharp gaze on her bum.

"Fifteen, if my calculations are correct," he said softly as he moved out of the way of Draco, who came sprinting into the room. It was Christmas morning at Hogwarts but almost everyone was still asleep. Only Severus, Draco, a handful of teachers and Hermione were awake. "Merry Christmas, Hermy," Draco rasped out, wiping the snow off his face and mockingly admired Hermione's bum.

Suddenly, he smacked her bum, making her shriek. "You—" she sputtered, her face bright red as Draco roared with laughter. "You're lucky you're gay!" said Severus softly, towering above his godson, "otherwise you would no longer be able to—"

"Down boy!" laughed Hermione, her knees trembling when he shot her a look. "It's ok," _Although I wish it had been you, _she thought while she blushed bright pink. "Having dirty thoughts about him, aren't you?" snickered Draco. Her face went bright red, much to his amusement, but Severus simply stared at her through his long hair. He obviously didn't know that she was able to detect his gaze since second year.

"That's none of your business, Malfoy," said Hermione coolly as she brushed passed him and slid on her robes. When she turned back to them, she though she saw a flicker of disappointment in Severus's eyes but the joy in them slowly rekindled when his gaze landed on her hair. Today, she decided to let it lay natural, albeit she had broken several brushes to untangle it this morning. The curls were wild and messy but no longer frizzy.

What wonders Suzy Slesh's Sleek Anti-Frizz potion could do for one's frizzy, dry hair. "Your hair," Severus whispered softly, his voice lost. "It's very beautiful like that. I like it much better than the straight hair you parade with. This, _this _is the Hermione Granger I know and love," Draco butted in, wrapping an arm around her and tugging her to his side.

"Excuse us a moment, Severus," he purred to his godfather, who nodded mutely, still staring so very openly at Hermione, although there was a flicker of anger and annoyance at the word _love_. Draco steered her into a corner and grinned at her. "What?" she demanded.

"He really likes your hair."


	7. 1-7

Warning: Fluff at the end. Also, I have no idea what I'm doing anymore.

* * *

_Child_

_1.7_

_Severus_

HERMIONE FELT HIS gaze on her the entire time they walked down the steps, Draco on her left, Severus walking off to the side behind her on her right. "You aren't helping," she sighed quietly to the blonde, who continued to stroke her hair. "How on Earth did you get rid of the frizz?" he asked.

"Also, I _am _helping. He's going to get jealous and go all Caveman on you and declare his undying love," Draco explained with a sugary smile that made Hermione burst out in snorting laughter. "You're crazy. There's no way a guy like him could like an insufferable know-it-all like me," she said softly once her laughter ebbed away.

The Slytherin smiled. "You never know, 'Mione." Hermione snorted loudly, drawing Severus's attention. His eyes were hard and cold as he glared at Draco, but softened into warm, unfathomably black ones when they turned to her. She forced down the desire to stare into his eyes forever and stumbled on the landing. Two arms wrapped around her, steadying her.

A glance at the skin told her who it was. She noticed something on his left forearm, a flash of a black brand with red eyes. "Severus, when did that show up?" she asked quietly as they made their way into the Gryffindor commons room. Severus's warm breath fluttered against her ear like a snuffing dog.

"Yesterday while we were walking back," he whispered. His arms released her and she fled to the fireplace with the false pretense of warming her hands. She needed no fire, though; his skin on hers, his warm breath against her ear, had been enough to light a thousand fires under her skin.

"That's the Dark Mark," Draco said, lounging in the loveseat next to the Christmas tree. He held a blue present in his hands, his long fingers playing with the ribbons. "The mark of the Dark Lord," added Hermione as she felt the heat of the fire slide into her and boil her blood. Severus sank down into the recliner across the fireplace, dwarfing it.

"The…Dark Lord?"

"He was the man you spied on. You…" She reached forward, yanked a poker and stuck the metal tip into the fire. Embers exploded into the air, showing the growing fire. "…You were a Death Eater, one of his followers. He was a cruel, horrible, disgusting, vile, pathetic, and weak—" Hermione stopped, struggling to get a grip on her emotions. "He was a bad man, Severus."

They fell into silence until Draco said, rather loudly, "Let's open the presents." Hermione was jolted back into reality and hurried to her feet, heading for the tree. With the flick of her wand, several presents shot into Severus's and Draco's laps. She sat on a footstool, smiling at them. Severus's dark eyes went wide. "You got me something?"

"Somethings," Draco crooned while unwrapping a set of expensive cuff links with dragons engraved on the metal. "Sterling silver? You know me so well." He flashed her a grin as Severus slowly unwrapped his first present. It was the chess set she'd bought him with Albus. He held it in his lap, his entire body stock-still and then suddenly, he smiled brightly.

"Thank you," he said, his voice over flowing with happiness and shock. His dark eyes rolled to Hermione, who sat quietly and drank in their reactions. She could've sworn she saw tears in Severus's bottomless eyes. "You're welcome. Open the rest, you two; I'm going to go get some Butterbeer."

She escaped out the portrait hole and hurried to the kitchens. A small, feminine house-elf with big brown eyes let out a noise of surprise when she saw Hermione. "How can Winky serve Miss?"

"Merry Christmas, Winky," Hermione said, "I'd live three Butterbeers." There was a flurry of motion before the house-elf reappeared, holding three bottles of toffee-brown liquid. Hermione took her leave with a soft thank you and then she was off up the steps again. She was distracted by the sight of the soft, light snow flowing to the ground on gentle waves of chilly air.

"Hermione?" whispered a voice she'd grown used to. Turning slowly, Hermione saw Severus standing behind her, staring at her with an expression of fear and excitement. "I-I…uh…I got you something." His arms slid out from behind his back, holding out something. It was sloppily wrapped with pink wrapping paper; there was a dark red bow sitting sideways on the side.

"You really shouldn't have," she answered quietly, her face warming as she handed off the Butterbeers to him in exchange for the present. There was a clink of glass as he shifted uneasily, his gaze on her. Slowly, she slid a finger into a gap in one of the attempted flap and pulled forward. The paper tore, revealing a black material that gleamed slightly. Growing excited, her hands pulled away the paper quickly, revealing a leather-bound book. It smelt of antique shops, musty and murky but she smiled nonetheless.

They walked back to Gryffindor tower in silence, him shifting ever few moments, her admiring the book with a smile. They had just stepped into the common room when she heard Draco say, "Mistletoe!" Severus dropped the Butterbeers suddenly and, with a flick of his wrist, Draco sent them to the couch.

"Oh, 'Mione, I gotta go get your present." With a saucy grin, the Slytherin all but skipped away, his black robes billowing behind him. Hermione shifted uncomfortable as Severus rubbed his arm, his nails biting into the Dark Mark, black as night, on his moonlight-pale skin. "Y-you don't…" His voice was soft and barely even a whisper; he seemed to be having trouble speaking.

His head was bowed, the epitome of embarrassment; two dark red blushes stood out against his cheeks as he shifted again and again. He seemed jittery and unsure of himself, every awkward boy about to kiss a girl. Hermione brushed the hair away from his handsome face, stroking his cheek.

His skin was silky and incredibly smooth and she admired the texture. "We don't have to if you don't want to," he whispered against the air escaping her lips as she stood on her tiptoes—dear God, he was so much taller than her—and leaned her weight against him. "I know," she answered, staring at him. His black eyes were dark brown, pupils wide, and framed by the prettiest eyelashes she'd ever seen.

"I know you wouldn't want to kiss this greasy bat," he said and she could see the fear and disappointment in his eyes. "That's where you're wrong, Severus." She leaned closer, his hands clamped down on her hands, his long fingers digging into the cushioning on her hips.

Without another word, their lips touched. Somewhere to her left, Draco let out an appreciative whoop. One hand lifted into Severus's hair.

The other flipped Draco off behind his back.


	8. 1-8

This story has been discontinued until I have motivation to continue.


	9. 1-9

Soundtrack: In the Sun-The Secret of Anastasia. I honestly don't know what to do with this. I'm half asleep right now so forgive the extreme OOCness of this. Ideas are very much needed.

* * *

_1.9_

_Child_

_Severus_

SHE WAS SINGING when they passed, her pretty pink lips barely moving. He stopped for a second, admiring her heart-shaped bum and spoke directly behind her, "Good morning, Hermione." She spun on her heel, her round brown eyes landing on him and, before he could so much as squeak, she launched at him and wrapped him in a hug that smelled of strawberry chapstick.

"Severus! I was so worried," she whispered against his ear, relaxing when he placed his arms around her. They stayed like that, her listening to his heart and him inhaling the scent of her curly hair, and then they swayed. "I missed you," she mumbled into his robes. "I missed you as well," he replied quietly. "Severus?"

"When did I give you permission to use my first name?" She smiled. "You didn't seem to mind it on Christmas," she answered smugly. His face warmed. "Yes—well—I—" She laughed loudly and he scowled but it held no malice. "You never answered me that night."

He frowned.

"Do you fancy me, Severus?"

"Yes, Hermione, I do."

"Would you date me?"

He studied her. "Perhaps." He brushed lint off his sleeve, his hand slowing over the spot where his Dark Mark stood as dark as it had been the day he was branded. He looked up at her through his eyelashes and spoke carefully, despite the hate rolling in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm a bad man, Hermione. I've killed, hurt, lied, betrayed, tortured, raped and driven innocent people to insanity." He paused, gauging her reaction. She met his eyes boldly. "Although, thankfully, I would never hurt a woman in the ways I once did." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath of musky winter air and met her eyes. "My childhood was not a happy, puppies-and-kittens-and-rainbows one. My father was an alcoholic; he beat my mother daily. I spent my childhood alone and friendless, listening to my parents screaming at each other over my magic abilities."

"On night, my father had too much to drink and killed my mother. He claimed it was an accident but I doubt it." He laced his fingers, stared at his nails and relaxed. "He beat me until I was seventeen, knowing I couldn't use magic or strength against him. I spent my childhood black and blue; both on the inside and the outside." He glanced out the window and stared at the snow falling.

"The kids were just as cruel as my father. They taunted me in every way, for every aspect of my being. They sneered at my pale skin, at my thin body; they called me a greasy git for my hair. James loved to push me around until my healed bruises were layered with new ones. The day I stood up to him was the day I lost Lily." He unfolded his hand, cracked his knuckles and glanced at her. Surprisingly, she looked him in the eye before she spoke.

"I still want you, Severus. I want to hold you when you wake from nightmares; I want to sing to you when you can't sleep; I want to help you get over things you won't admit." She took a deep breath and her breasts strained against her robes. "My mother loved my father and he loved her but he was depressed and bipolar," Severus said finally after some time of staring at her.

"He took medication but it didn't help."

"Was he tried?"

"Yes. Killed by lethal injection."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her pretty, tear-stained face in his abdomen. "I'm sorry, Severus. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," she whimpered. "It was before you were born," he pointed out, running his fingers through her hair.

"Still. I wish I were there. I would've been your friend."

"Yes," he said softly, "you would've."

They broke apart but, as they turned to walk to the Great Hall, her hand caught his and her fingers laced through his. He glanced outside and saw the snow had layered the ground in blankets.

* * *

"What's your favorite color?"

"Blue. Yours?"

"Black."

Severus made a face. "Black is a good color but aren't you a girl? Shouldn't you like pink or something?" She smacked his arm playfully.

"Favorite animal?"

"Dog."

"Pugs."

"That's a dog." He leaned his back against the chair and placed his hands in front of the fire, ignoring the stack of red-marked papers beside him. He'd finished with his classes, grading essays and was now getting to know Hermione. "Fine! A snake."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "How very Slytherin, Hermione." She laughed. He tapped his lip with his pointer finger. "Favorite thing to wear?" "Fuzzy pajamas." "My teaching robes, they're actually quite soft and warm." She stroked his arm, her hand lingering over the Dark Mark beneath the fabric.

"Favorite thing to do in your free time?"

"Sing." His eyebrows climbed high on his forehead. "Let me here." "I only know a few songs." Her face was turning redder and redder by the moment. "Hermione, sing for me."

_"Though the winter blows bitter cold,_

_And bright days are done,_

_There's a season we'll soon behold,_

_When we'll all laugh in the sun. _

_Though we danced and sang through the night—" _She stopped abruptly and patted her hair furiously; her face was tight with anxiety and fear. "You have such a sexy singing voice," he told her boldly and she shook her head. "I'm horrid."

"You should hear Lucius when he sings in the shower. I've been to the house to babysit Draco when he was younger and, well, his father sounds like a dying cat with its tail stuck in a blender." Hermione's lips pursed in concentration and he leaned forward. Their lips brushed softly and he melted into her warmth; she kindled a fire in his chest.

"I'm so glad you saved me," he whispered against her warm hair. Her pulse beat against his jaw. "I'm so glad I found you in time, Severus," she whispered back, her warm breath floating into his ear.

He could live waking up to her voice, her warm body draped across his, eyes bleary from sleeping; little ones would be fast-asleep—He jolted away from her and shakily used the Floo. As soon as he stepped into his chambers, he stripped down, drew a steaming bath and slipped in.

_Hermione Granger as my wife, _he mused.


	10. 1-10

I saw Frozen. It was _amazing. _The soundtrack is pretty good; the animation is amazing and the overall storyline and art is great. They singing is spectacular. I'm probably gonna make a fic int he world of Frozen. Okay, basically a plot idea: Snape is the Frost prince; Hermione is the Fire princess. They are forced to wed but, when Snape accidentally hurts her after loosing control on his emotions, she runs away and becomes lost. Will he be able to find her?

SOUNDTRACK: _Let it go_ and _For the first time in forever/ for the first time in forever (reprise)-_Frozen

* * *

_1.10_

_Child_

_Severus_

"HAVE YOU EVER thought of having kids?"

"Yes."

He taps his lip. "How many?" "Two." She uncrosses her long legs and places her feet in his lap; her arms are crossed across her stomach, her fingers drumming against her jean-clad thighs. "Ron's going to a Ministry event," she says offhandedly and he feels himself tense up. "And?" He cocks an eyebrow.

"Will you come with me? I absolutely can't _stand _his flirting," she says, twirling a piece of honey-brown hair between her long fingers. Her nails are pink and long and the polish gleams in the firelight. "Why would someone as beautiful and intelligent as you want to be seen in public with someone as hideous and rude as me?"

The smile on her mouth makes him look into the fire. "The twins slipped something into his drink so he'll be stumbling all over the place," she says, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. His lips threaten into a smile.

"Please? You've always hated him," she pleads with big round eyes and he shrugs. His hands massage her calves. "Perhaps," he says slyly. Her eyes light up so wonderfully. "It's at eight," she says, lying back down. "I'll Floo you." She sits up, swings her feet off him, and pads off.

He watches Hermione's bushy hair disappear. "Let yourself out, Severus." He manages a smile in the darkness before walking out.

* * *

Severus is attempting to decide which tie goes with his midnight-colored Muggle suit when the Floo activates.

In steps Hermione Granger, dressed in a beautiful green dress that hugs her curves and flows out at her knees. The neckline is teasingly low, the straps halter-styled, accenting her slender neck and large breasts.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he says, meeting her eyes in the mirror's reflection. They're so different; they may have been the sun and the moon. He is pale and dark and horrid; she is sun-kissed and light and wonderful—everything and anything he isn't. "You look beautiful," she says, standing beside him. He stares at their reflection: she is as beautiful as can be with her wild hair tamed into loose curls that cascades in silky waves, her face glowing with happiness; he is as ugly as ever with his beak of a nose, his greasy black hair hanging lank in his face and his face permanently scowling.

"I highly doubt that, Miss Granger," he says quietly. "You are…and call me Hermione." Her hand slips into his and squeezes. His heart threatens to burst from his ribcage when he sees the adoration in her eyes before she can disguise it. He pulls his hand away to reach for his cloak and notes her disappointed expression but she brightens up when he takes her hand.

"You look ravishing, Hermione," he tells her softly in her ear, smiling when she squeaks and her face turns red. "Thank you," she whispers, head bowed as he helps her into her cloak. "But, then again, you always do." Her smile rips into a grin and she squeezes his hand hard. "Not always. Especially when I'm on my period," she jokes. His face turns red as she laughs, a beautiful sound that makes him melt. "Thought you should know. We should be leaving." She walks away, hips swaying beautifully, radiating joy and loveliness.

When she returns, in her hand is Floo powder and she's grinning. Her legs look miles long in the heels she wears and she wiggles her green-painted toenails at him with a short laugh. "How very Slytherin of you, Hermione," he says with a short half-smile, more of a quirk of his mouth than an actual curve of his lips.

She takes his arm, her long nails gleaming in the green firelight and his last thought before they step into the Floor connection is: _She's absolutely stunning._

* * *

The two stumble only slightly; Severus holding her while she pants open-mouthed; her eyes are closed while she tries to breathe passed the nausea of her Side-Along Apparition. He holds her, savoring the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her gown. "Imagine his face," puffs Hermione, leaning against him, her hands pulling up the skirt to her calves, not wanting to get cold, wet snow on the hem, "when I walk in on your arm."

Severus smiles briefly at the idea. "It will be worth it," he tells her softly, stroking a curl out of her face, "to see that look of shock and horror that you…you picked me over him…"

"Actually, he cheated on me with Lavender." She grimaces as the ice-cold snow touches her ankles. He grips her hand tightly. "He cheated on _you_?" he whispers. She gives him a strange look. "Yes, remember all those Howlers Molly continued to send?" Realization dawns on his face as high color splotches his throat, making the scar on his neck turn blood red, reminding her of the way it looked at the beginning of her seventh year.

"I will see to it that the Howlers end."

He knows that she's hiding her elated, relaxed smile behind her hand as she pretends to have a short coughing fit to mask the laughter. He breathes in the icy air, his nostrils burning form breathing too fast and his lungs filled with ice air, scenting mingling in his nostrils. Her arm loops through his as they trudge through the snow and he muses how much bigger his strides are compared to hers.

"You walk too fast," she complains as the banquet hall comes into view, golden lights glowing with heat. "Your legs are too short," he retorts, barely swallowing the snorting laughter at her outraged expression and two red blushes of anger swell on her cheeks. "Not all of us are tall like Goliath the giant," she spits back and he's taken aback by her anger. "Hermione, I wasn't—"

"Let's just get this over with."

Unbidden, as she stomps the rest of the way in front of him, self-hate welds up in his chest and settles home. He hasn't felt this self-hate in months.

* * *

She doesn't speak to him for the rest of the night; instead, tall, handsome men and a few women sweep her across the ballroom floor. Severus watches her dance with men with bedroom eyes and slimy smiles hidden behind charm and pose.

He sips his wine, yearning for something stronger, to drown the fiery anger that's been rolling in his stomach all night; his eyes, on their own accord it seems, track her movements. Her hair gleams in the light of the glass teardrop chandeliers lighting the room; her dress glitters with sparkles. He takes a large gulp and leans back.

_She didn't even try to hear me out, _he thinks to himself and contemplates slipping into her head. He flexes his wrist, rotating the wineglass in his pale hand and glowers at the red liquid. If only he were alone, able to sulk in his warm chamber (contrary to popular Wizarding world belief, his chambers are warmed by a warming charm with a sticking charm), drown his anger and pain in that sharp, bitter Firewhiskey hiding in his liquor cabinet.

He spots Weasley weaving his way towards Hermione, a swagger in his gait. Severus tightens his hand. The two exchange words; he can only imagine what the dunderhead is saying and, by Hermione's twisted expression, it isn't pleasant. Weasley smirks and trails a finger up her bare arm. It's such a simple gesture but it makes the fire in Severus's stomach intensify.

The wineglass explodes under his tight hand, a shower of red and glass shards soaking his sleeve and hand. Several heads turn his way but he's already walking away. _If she wishes to be a dunderhead, go right fucking ahead, _thinks Severus, wading through calf-deep snow, soaked to the bone in minutes. He casts a moderate warming charm and locates a stone bench. He sits down, rests his elbows on his arms and stares out at the frozen Weeping Willow with teardrop tendrils hanging with gravity.

_You stupid, pitiful old man, _he chides himself, holding himself as though he may shatter. _Why would such a beautiful, _young _woman such as Hermione—no, _Granger—_wish to be you? You're a perverted old man, _he tells himself. His breath escapes in clouds. "Severus?" He straightens up; repeats a mantra of _don't let her in, don't let her see _and turns to Her—Granger.

Her appearance is disheveled, her hair wild and crazy, escaping its loose curls and into the wild mane he'd grown to admire; her nose was red and her eyes were glassy. Her dress was torn in certain places and her cheek was bleeding. "He attacked me. Cornered me." A choking sob escapes her chest and rattles in the silence between them. "It was dark. I barely could see. I couldn't summon my wand because he put his hand over my mouth," she whispers, tears gleaming in her beautiful, big eyes.

Severus stands and closes the space between them; his arms go out and wrap around her. She sobs. "I managed to kick him and get away before he did any real damage. I'm so glad—" She freezes aburptly, her entire body going still against him and he strokes her back, feeling the ridges of her vertebra, the slight tremors that rock her bumping against his palm. "Her-my-ownee!" shrieks a voice. She clings to him.

"Please save me."

Footsteps crunch through the snow.

"Please don't hate me."

They grow closer. He tightens his arms around her.

"Please, Severus, _Severus, _please don't leave me," she begs, her mouth flushed and red and so close; her eyes are big and scared, filled with tears that gleam in the pale light of the moon.

"I won't, Hermione."

He wraps her in his cloak, bringing the girl closer to him. Severus feels her heart beating rapidly like a frightened rabbit's against this chest and shushes her. "Her—there you are!" Weasley's grinning, red-faced, his shirt unbuttoned and loose; his pants are rumpled and damp with snow.

He frowns at Severus.

"What're you doing with the greasy old git?"

"She _is _my date, Mr. Weasley," says the potions master, his tone calm and collected, not a hint of anger slipping through. His resolve is cracking, spider-wed fissures crawling across the glass wall between his feelings. _Don't let it show, _he tells himself. He's slipping.

"Let's go back, 'Mione."

"She's asleep."

His anger is boiling up, bubbling slowly, his heart beating faster and faster, his hands trembling. He licks his lips and scoops her up into his arms. She's heavy but he can easily carry her.

"Nah," says the redhead, stepping closer. Severus steps back. Weasley's face is slowly turning red. "Sir, let her go." "Mr. Weasley, I suggest _you_ leave us be."

"She wants _me_."

Another chunks of ice fell off, blazing heat filling him, racing through his limbs. His hands shake with anger and adrenaline and just plain cold. _That arrogant little pig, _Severus fumes as he adjusts Hermione, accidentally waking her. She stirs, bleary eyes peering up at him through her eyelashes and freezes when her eyes rest on Weasley.

"Her-my-ownee! Tell him to put you down," whines the boy. She shakes her head slowly. Snarling, he lunges but Severus simply repels him with a wandless, wordless spell. _Conceal; don't feel, _he tells himself. Weasley's meaty fist is up, sailing through the air. All the anger is there, hot and blazing in his belly, warming him, and he strikes back harshly, the sound of bone meeting flesh ricocheting around them.

With an outrageous howl, the boy swings his arms around him but they're Apparating. "This won't be the last of this! See if Minerva wants to keep your ugly ass after the _Daily Prophet _hears about this."

Severus can't give two shits.

* * *

Okay, so Hermione supposed to be really short and sensitive about her lack of height so that's why she got so upset.


	11. 1-11

I'm sorry that is nothing compared to the amazing fanfics I've read. Forgive any confusion or stupidity in this. It's my first HP story. Next up: Child! Hermione and she will age two years in each week. Also, she has a lisp because I thought it would be cute.

* * *

_1.11_

_Child_

_Severus_

HER HEAD WAS pounding as she blinked back sleep. All around her, darkness closed in and not a sliver of light showed. Frowning, Hermione kicked out her foot and found the blackness around her wasn't darkness or lack of light; it was fabric. Curiosity got the best of her and she reached out, her hand closing around air.

With a wail of fear, she fell forward and hit something hard. "Hermione?" asked a rumbling voice. Her head was throbbing even more now. It hurt really badly; she couldn't help but begin to bawl. Hot, thick tears ran down her cheeks as she wailed and sobbed and cried. The fabric that had been around her was lifted; a piercing light exploded in front of her eyes. "Not again," groaned the voice from before. Gentle hands scooped up the five-year-old, brushing away the scrapes on her knees from where she'd fallen.

"There, there, Hermione." The pain in her head increased as she sniffled and slowly stopped crying. "My head hurtsh," she told the owner of the voice as warm fingers rubbed the tears from her cheeks. "Daddy?" "No, I'm afraid not." There was a short amount of jostling, a whispering of words and she was snuggled deep in a heavy sweatshirt and snug jeans; the headache was slowly fading. "My name is Severus Snape." Hermione yawned. "Hermione, can you open your eyes for me?" She slowly pulled open her heavy lips and, as her vision cleared of tears, she saw a man's face.

He was really pale, with a big, crooked nose, dark eyes, and long, black hair that hung in his face like curtains. His face was thin and his cheekbones stood out, sending shadows across his face. "Can you walk?" he asked in a soft voice, adjusting her in his arms. He set her down, crouching just in her reach and let her go. Her legs wobbled but she managed.

"My legsh feel funny," she told him and, just as those words passed her lips, her legs gave out. She expected to hit the ground, not be enveloped in warm robes. "You're very nice, mishter," she said, touching the tip of his nose. He stared down at her with scrunched up eyebrows. "You're really, really nice." He murmured a noise and his hand stroked her hair.

"Your hair is very soft," he complimented her. "Mommy putsh tea leaf oil in it. It smells nice too and our doggie, Jasper, likes to put his face in my hair after baths." She yawned and leaned her head against him. Within seconds, she was asleep.

He gazed at her with adoration much like a lover and stroked her hair. To the quiet hallway, he spoke.

"Who knew know-it-all Gryffindor-princess Hermione Granger had a lip?"


	12. 1-12 (PART 1 END)

_1.12_

_Child_

_Hermione_

* * *

"WELL, SEEING AS it's so old, we have no records of returning Miss Granger to normal." Minerva stirred her teaspoon in the china cup, watching the sleeping girl in Severus's arms. His fingers absently stroked her curls, his hands trembling.

Minerva smiled softly, gently in a motherly way and placed her hand on the girl's head. "Albus has been informed," she said quietly, watching as Severus shifted the girl in his arms and held her closer. "It will be the same as when I was turned?" he asked as Minerva paused, thoughtfully added another sugar cube and resumed stirring the spoon.

"I'm afraid so, although she'll most likely age differently than you," she explained, taking a sip from her cup. It wasn't sweet enough. She added another sugar cube. It plunked into the drink gracelessly, splashing. While pretending she was concentrated on stirring, she studied Severus.

His frame wasn't so much as a skeleton, just a slim man; his skin had taken a healthier tinge, not so ghastly; his hair wasn't greasy-looking and he looked like he slept considerably well. His posture was relaxed, calm but ready for action.

He gazed at Hermione with care and tenderness; his hands stroked her hair as she slept. The last time Minerva had seen him like this was when he found a small cat during his sixth year and nurtured it back to health. Never had such love or adoration been directed at a person; not her, not Albus, and certainly not Lily Potter. She knew how terrible the girl was; a single word spoken in embarrassment and misdirected anger—she had never forgiven him.

_Yet Hermione, my little Gryffindor, has wiggled her way into his shielded heart, _mused the Transfiguration teacher with a smile. Severus scowled at her but rested Hermione's head on his left breast.

_This is going to be interesting. _


	13. 2-1

Warning: OOC Snape.

_2.1_

_Child_

_Hermione_

* * *

HE WAS IN the middle of cooking when Hermione woke up. "Sheverush?" She wandered in, holding onto a pillow, looking out of place in a good way against the dark décor of his kitchen with her pink flannel pajamas. "Good morning, Hermione," he told her, smiling briefly. She giggled. "Good morning, Sheverush. What're you doing?"

"Cooking. Do you like hash browns?" he asked, turning to look at her. "Yesh," she answered before clambering up on a chair and staring at him with a grin. There was a gap between her two front teeth, he noticed as he sprinkled with eggs with salt and finely ground pepper as they cooked. "Where'sh Mommy and Daddy?" she asked suddenly.

"Mommy and Daddy are away on business so it's just you and I here," he answered calmly, knowing the adult Hermione wouldn't wish to speak with the parents who, instead of supporting her when she needed it, isolated her. He set down a plate of bacon, one of butter-soaked toast and two plates of eggs seasoned generously with the seasoning salt that he normally saved for his roasts.

"What would you like to drink, Hermione?" he asked kindly, handing her a piece of toast. She thanked him and paused, muttering a few words before eating. "Sheverush," said the gap-toothed girl when he shoveled a forkful of warm eggs into his mouth, "Don't you pray?" He stopped chewing, staring at the bright-eyed child across from him, and set down his fork.

"No," he began slowly, "I don't. My father was a religious man, though, but he did not approve of my mother's witch blood or mine." He stared down at his plate. "He burnt all my books, except one, which I had hidden in my school trunk, and he destroyed any contact with her family." He swallowed and rose; he turned his back to her as he made his way to the fridge.

"Apple juice?" He waved the carton at her.

"Yesh, pleashe."

She was quiet while she pushed a hot forkful of eggs onto her toast and took a bite. She chewed for a while and, when she put down her fork and swallowed the mouthful, she turned to him and said, "Do you believe in God?" He'd been pouring her a short, stubby glass when she asked that and now the glass was overflowing.

Biting his tongue to keep from swearing, he waved his hand and the mess was cleaned. He heard Hermione gasp. "You…you're a wizard," she said softly. He paid that no heed. "No, Hermione, I don't believe in God. I shall inform you only once: Do not ask people you've only just met such personal, prying questions or you may find yourself in a world of trouble." He set her glass and remained quiet for the remainder of breakfast.

"I'm shorry." Her voice broke the silence as he cleared away their dishes the Muggle way. He glanced at her, only to find she was crying softly and tugging at the gnarled ends of her nappy hair. "I'm shorry. I didn't…" She sniffled and he sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Hermione," he said, scooping her up into his arms, "I didn't mean to make you cry." He stroked her back.

They remained like that; she in his lap, her tiny hands closed in fists around his shirt, his hands stroking her back until she stilled and quieted and her tears ebbed. "I'm sorry," he said, the words tasting foreign on his tongue and reminding him of a time where he begged for forgiveness to a red-haired woman who refused to so much as listen. Severus buried his face in Hermione's curls and inhaled, filling himself with the memory of the Brightest Witch of Her Generation.

* * *

After breakfast, Severus showered while Hermione read _Alice in Wonderland_ beside the fire. He let his mind wander as he showered, the hot water running over his skin. How long would it be until she returned to normal? Would she remember what he done? He leaned into the hot spray, letting it run over his eyelids in hot streams; water beat down on his chest and made his heart thrum.

He sighed into the thick steam, relaxed, and absently ran his hands across the scars, thick and rippling and flushed in the heat. He thought of Hermione, her bright eyes; her smiling face, her quiet voice, her excited tone.

When the water became lukewarm, he stepped out and dried off. "Hermione?" he called as he walked out, his trousers low on his hips, his hands tousling the towel against his soaked hair. He could hear her giggling in the sitting room and followed her growing noise; he found her on the floor, rubbing Odysseus's belly.

Severus was surprised; you see, Odysseus was a very grumpy cat and rarely took a liking to anyone. "His name is Odysseus." Hermione squealed as Odysseus licked her palm. "I know, he told me." "Told you?" He raised an eyebrow.

She glanced up at him, smiled that gap-toothed smile of hers, and picked up Odysseus. "He told me I remind him of hish old owner; she wash really nithe." She rubbed the cat's back, making him purr like a motorboat and arch his back into her stroking.

Severus stared at her. "You can speak with animals?" She turned pink and buried her face in Odysseus's fur. "Hermione," he knelt down beside her and stroked her hair, causing her to lift her head to meet his eyes, "Can you converse with animal?"

"Yesh." She smiled down at the squash-faced cat and giggled again. "I like you," she said, staring into Severus's eyes. She dropped Odysseus beside the fire and crawled closer to Severus.

"You're really, really nithe," she laughed, crawling up his thigh and sitting there, her tiny fingers tracing the scars. Her hands paused on a particularly nasty one across the width of his nipple; it rain from his shoulder to just below the nipple. "How did you get thish?"

"A bad man. I crossed him and he hurt me."

"What happened to him?"

"He's dead."

"I'm shorry he hurt you."

Her lips touched the scar and he felt a jolt, a tug at his navel. His chest tightened and he knew she meant more to him than he was willing to admit. No, he wasn't aroused; he was more along the lines of shocked.

He told her a story as she lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "Once upon a time, there was a man who was very quiet and loved rarely. When he was little, he met a girl named Lily. She was beautiful and gentle and he loved her fiercely. They went to a special school called Hogwarts." She sighed against his collarbone and relaxed. "They got put in different classes; she grew closer to her classmates and they soon drifted apart. One day, her friends decided it would be fun to embarrass the young man. They put him up in a tree and pulled off his robes in front of everyone. When Lily came up and told them to put him down, the boy got angry and called her a name that he shouldn't have."

"A bad word name?"

"Worse. He called her a…Mudblood. It means filthy blood. He was only fourteen and was angry and embarrassed by Lily's friends and not being able to defend himself. Weeks passed and he begged for forgiveness each day but she turned a blind eye and pretended he didn't exist. He longed for her but knew she hated him." Hermione's hair tickled his chin. "Soon, Lily and her friend James got married and had a son named Harry. By then the young man who called her a name was grown up and very angry and hated James. The young man's name was S. Now, while he grew up, a man came to be known. He called himself Tom Riddle."

"S found Tom Riddle and became a follower. Each of his followers was given a mark, known as a Dark Mark. But, soon, there was a prophecy: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._"1 S figured out it was James and Lily and went to his old headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. S realized how wrong his actions were and gave up anything, everything, for Lily and her son—but not for James, and became a spy for Albus. On Halloween night, Tom struck down Lily and James and, when he went to go kill little Harry, Tom's body was destroyed."

"Was S you?"

Severus was quiet. "Yes." He could feel the tears welding up and then it was her turn to stroke his hair as he cried; he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"There, there, Sheverush," she said.

* * *

1 Harry Potter and the order of the Phoenix (first appearance); Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (mentioned only)


	14. 2-2

Are you guys still reading this? I don't know what to do anymore for this…I may quit…

* * *

_2.2_

_Child_

_Hermione_

WHEN SEVERUS WOKE, his eyes felt puffy and sticky; he must've cried sometime last night. Yawning, he rolled onto his side and gave a start to find a small head of curly hair peeking out of the blankets. He remembered last night, being angry with Hermione for prying and then breaking down into uncontrollable sobs after telling her of Lily.

"Good morning," he whispered and kissed her head. She looked older, he noticed. Her body was long and gangly, all knees and elbows; she was thin as a bird. He guessed she was about seven now, with wild hair and a growing overbite; how fast two weeks flew by.

"Goo' mor'in," she answered around a large yawn. A gust of sour breath fanned his face and he recoiled. "No more talking until our teeth have been brushed," he decided, sliding out of the bed and making his way to the bathroom. She followed shortly, only after pulling on some pants that he'd tossed to her absently.

They brushed their teeth in silence; he studied her out of the corner of his eye.

She was tall and thin, with bone-thin arms, long legs, and knobby elbows and knees. Her skin was slightly pale, her eyes looked too big for her small face, and her hair was a riot of damnable curls that seemed to want to break brushes.

"Your hair…" he began but she stared at him with those big, round doe eyes and he just simply waved his hand. A brush flew into his palm. "It needs to be tamed."

She turned to he could brush it out and began to brush it out; she flinched with each pass of the bristles. "I'm sorry," he said softly. She squeezed his hand with a smile. "It's okay." He blinked several times. "Your lisp is gone." She grinned. "Yeah," she said with a giggle and began to make cat noises.

Odysseus stuck his head in the door, padded up to her and folded himself on her feet. She giggled even louder. "He likes you," said Severus, surprise etched across his solemn features. "He's very nice," she said after a moment filled with only the sound of the brush combing through tangle-free hair. "Kind of like you. He may be sour but he's nice if you get passed his exterior self," explained Hermione.

"I am _not _sour," he argued but, upon seeing her laughing expression, let it go. "There," he said after a moment, releasing the brush and sending it back to its place with a simple flick of his wrist. "Show me how to do that!" she breathed, excitement lighting up her small, gaunt face.

He shook his head, knowing far too well that seven-year-old witches and wizards could not produce magic yet, and headed out. He was just pulling off his nightshirt when he heard a gasping sound. "Severus, your back," Hermione whispered softly. He stiffened. Oh, how could he be so foolish as to forget that ugly scars marring his back? He went to pull his shirt down but a pair of cool, soft hands stopped him.

Nails traced the jagged scars, reminders of his horrid choices to serve Voldemort, and flashes of hot and cold rushed over him, spilling into his bones and freezing him on the spot. His stomach pitched and rolled viciously, threatening to empty the contents. "Hermione," he rasped sharply, turning away from her.

"I—I'm sorry," she stammered almost nervously as he yanked down his shirt abruptly, his skin still feeling her hands tracing his scars. "I'll go get breakfast ready." He waved his hand, Transfiguring some Muggle clothes for her. "Get dressed."

He stalked out and sank into the routine of cooking.

* * *

Hermione stared down at her chest. She wore her panties, jeans and socks, a black and white tennis shoe dangling from one hand as she examined herself in the mirror.

She'd been dressing but stopped in the middle of changing her shirt; much to her surprise, there was a bright pink, fleshy scar running from her right nipple to just above her abdomen. Her skin tingled with electric shocks as she traced it with a long nail.

She felt a hot spike of fear and pain slam into her chest; she stumbled back with the ferocity of it. Tears prickled her eyes as the pain broadened, burning fiercer and fiercer; it began to tighten until she couldn't breathe right. Each intake of air was rattling in her chest as the backs of her knees hit the bed. A picture frame toppled over and struck her shoulder; the pain loosened its hold, not too much but enough for her to breathe.

She lay there for a while, trying to decipher what had just happened when Severus knocked. "Hermione?" he asked quietly and she shakily pulled on her shirt. "There's a scar on my chest—how did I get it?" she demanded when he opened the door. "Scar?" "From here—" She placed a hand on her right breast, trailed down, and stopped at the bottom of her ribcage, "—to here."

"Dolohov hit you with a nasty hex." She trembled slightly. "He…he was a Death Eater," Severus added quietly and her skin prickled at the name. _Death Eater _sounded so morbid and it made her belly coil unpleasantly, her skin crawling.

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. She didn't like the way hearing the name made her feel, not one bit. "Hermione—" "What did he do?" Severus didn't answer, pointedly looked away from her. "Severus?" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the room, ignoring her protests.

"Severus!" she whined, struggling futilely but when he threw her down into a chair and nearly tipped her onto the floor, she shut up completely. He slammed down a plate, spilled her drink onto the table and glowered at her. She bit her tongue and ate in silence, blinking back hot, salty tears. "I-I'm…" She stopped, swallowed hard a few times and said, weakly, "I'm done." He got to his feet and took up her nearly full plate, disapproval of her lack of appetite obvious on his face.

"He was a bad man. He did the most horrible things." Hermione picked at her nail until it peeled away and stung, blood beading at the corner where it was torn away. "He killed and tortured many people and seemed to enjoy it." She must've made a noise because Severus got to his feet, pulled her out of the chair and stroked her hair. "Hermione," he whispered as she buried her face in his chest and tried not to cry.

The name _Death Eater _swam around in her head over and over and over until it was the only thing she could hear; all she felt was emense fear…


	15. 2-3

A/N: The next few chapters will be corny fluff.

* * *

_Child_

_2.3_

_Hermione_

HE UNWARDED THE door, muttered the password, Spinner's End, and dragged himself in. He was in a horrid mood; several idiot third-years had successfully blown up two Pewter cauldrons, spilled three phials of Fluxweed leaves—which were very hard to find—and ended up blowing up the Skele-Grow they were brewing. The essays were almost completely illegible or plagiarized from the textbook.

"Odysseus?" he called into the sitting room; a short meow answered. He was unbuttoning his teaching robes when he paused, staring at the fire roaring in his normally cold, empty fireplace; what on Earth could've—

Odysseus, yellow eyes narrowed, sat on one of end of the couch, tail swirling back and forth as though he knew something Severus didn't. Behind his Familiar was a mass of wild curls sprawled out. Books surrounded Hermione and a spoon swam in an empty cup, spinning in lazy circles.

_Bagshot's Guide to Beginner Magic. _

"Very passionate, you are, Hermione," Severus whispered as he waved his hand and sent the books back to where they came. The teaspoon continued to run in circles and he sent it the kitchen. He settled in beside her, stroking her thick, frizzy curls. "So very passionate, Hermione Granger," he sighed and let his thin, age-old lips press against the young girl's smooth forehead.

He unbuttoned his robes and hung them up in his wardrobe; bare of his teaching clothes, he began to undress when he heard a sleepy voice call out his name. "Severus?" He smiled as he unlaced his shoes. Hermione appeared, her sticking up on one side, rumpled as ever.

"It seems you can do magic, although very simple magic," Severus explained as he placed his shoes under the bed. His nimble fingers working the many buttons of his frock coat, he walked over to her and stroked her cheek, wiping away the red mark and dried drool. "You really _are _the brightest witch of your age, Hermione." She smiled up at him, reaching up to him with open arms. He let her sink against him.

* * *

The morning of Monday, he dragged himself out of bed to find Hermione walking in, her hair visible only above the tray covered with burnt toast, scrambled eggs, biscuits, margarine and a teetering glass of orange juice. He groaned and ran his hand through his hair; sitting up, he gathered his things and ordered her into the bed. His stomach rumbled as he washed in burning water.

He brushed his hair thirteen times until it was silky and dry; he scrubbed his crooked teeth fourteen times until his gums ached and patted a bit of cologne onto his neck and behind his ears. He stared at his reflection, thinking back to that first day Hermione had sought him out, engaged him in a lively debate about the use of some creature to test a new potion.

He scowled as he recalled how Potter and Weasley had laughed about his not-so-decent looks; Granger, as she had been back then, had shook her head and berated them for disrespecting him. They had the good grace to look ashamed but, as her back was turned, began to Ron began mimic her overbite and mimed berating Potter. Severus had swooped down and deducted twenty points.

He had looked at Granger and gave her a short smile.

"Severus?"

There were crumbs on her face and in her hair as she stepped in. "Where are you going?" "Class." "Can I come?" He wanted to say no but, with her big, puppy-dog eyes gazing up at him so eagerly, he fond he couldn't. She squealed, jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck, chanting, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

He shooed her off to get dressed and busied himself with nibbling on her burnt, buttery toast and overly salted eggs. When she reappeared, it was like first-year all over again. Wild hair, an awed expression, robes too long for her willowy frame; her clothes, though, consisted of a pink sweater, blue tank top and simple black jeans and scuffed grey sneakers.

"You look presentable," he said and noticed her frown. "I know I'm not pretty but you don't have to be mean about it," she said quietly, tugging at her gnarled hair hard enough to make him flinch.

"I wasn't trying to being mean," he argued, reaching out for her. "Let's go—" "No," he said and grabbed her hand, stroking the soft skin. "You are by _far _the most beautiful witch I have ever seen," he whispered against her wild hair. She wrinkled her nose at him. "Beautiful? Decent, maybe." She picked at her stomach with a frown before pulling away.

"The boys at school call me Grubby Granger."

"Boys are insolent little tarts."

She giggled and slid her fingers between his; they fit like a puzzle piece. He sighed and led her out of the chambers, warding it while she rubbed Odysseus's belly. When he was done, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed his hair out of his face—he happened to like it in his face—and tucked the pieces that feel into his face behind his ears. She sniffed him a few times, her eyes blinking up so innocently, so trusting, naive and young and carefree…

"Let's go."

She stood outside and gazed out into the corridor as he threw up some wards, strong, complex ones—the War had left him a very paranoid man—and added a few alarm wards. He adjusted his robes, fixed his hair so it hid his face again and started down the hallway. It felt good—_normal—_to stalk down the hallway, noticing the students avoiding him, his robes billow but why were they staring at him so oddly? He glanced around but found nothing out of the ordinary.

He felt someone squeeze his hand and looked down, staring at the young Hermione smiling up at him with happiness. "This place is _huge!" _She threw out her arms to emphasize the size of the castle. He let himself smile briefly and they continued on, with her chattering on and on about every brick in the wall, every cobblestone on the walkway, the way the students kept staring at them—anything and everything.

"I like potions."

He brushed a curl out of her face. "So do I."

"When I grow up, I wanna be a potion person!"

He pushed open the heavy door.

"Potioneer, my dear."


	16. 2-4

Warning: Hermione gets her first period. Also, I need ideas please.

* * *

Recommended soundtrack**:** The Prince's Tale by The Butter-beer Experience (Although it's about Snape and Lily, I enjoy the song.)

_Child_

_2.4_

_Hermione_

HERMIONE WOKE UP in almost excruciating pain. She slipped out of her bed and padded down the hall; she, at eleven, proudly had memorized the layout of the chambers! She pushed open the bathroom, flicked on the light and locked the door. Aware of the wetness in her panties, she thought she wet the bed maybe but when she pulled down her pants; bright red stained the inside of her bottoms.

"Severus?"

She couldn't stop shaking, no matter how hard she willed the tremors to stop. He jerked awake almost immediately. "Hermione?" "There's something wrong with me." She bit her lip to keep from crying but the hot tears still burned her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm bleeding."

"Where?"

He was wide awake now, his eyes wild and concerned; his hair was nappy and swept up on one side from lying down. She shifted uncomfortably. "Down _there_." At first, it didn't seem to register with him and then, his face went redder than a rose in full bloom but she couldn't understand why.

"Well, Hermione, I'll give you something for the pain—" _How did he know about the pain? _"—and bleeding. I'll explain what's happening in the morning."

He disappeared into his lab—she liked to think he was a mad scientist making new potions in it—and she sat in the bathroom, trying to figure out what the blood in her pajamas meant.

* * *

She woke up with sticky thighs, wet pajama bottoms and a pounding headache that increased when streams of light cut across her eyes. _Migraine. _She sat up, pulled back the covers and wrinkled her nose at the sight of the blood. Apparently, the potion had worn off; she didn't remember taking it though.

She gathered clean clothes, stripped once she was in the bathroom, and ran the water hot. She scrubbed her skin until it ached, watched the blood roll down the drain and tentatively dried, keeping an eye out for any blood.

A rectangular package sat on the counter, innocent and harmless yet Hermione blanched as she read the plastic label. _Maxi-Pads. _She read the instructions, feeling very gross as she did as the instructions told her and then she waddled out, feeling clean as her damp hair dripped water down her back. Several textbooks lay on her bed, along with a plate of warm chocolate biscuits. She opened the books, bit into a biscuit and began to read.

By the time Severus came in, she was finished with all the books. "You could've just told me," she said when he sat down gingerly on the bed, "I knew all about this kind of stuff. I just…didn't think it'd happen to me." He grumbled under his breath as she stacked the books up and set them in her bookshelf. "Dobby!" barked out Severus and then the strangest creature appeared—it looked like a child-sized bat, with soft, pale skin and big, green eyes the size of tennis balls and large ears like a beagle. It was extremely thin, with bony arms and legs.

"Tea."

The thing—Dobby—looked at her with scared eyes. "Misses Granger!" Dobby said and then proceeded to fling itself at her, almost knocking her onto the ground. She stumbled, wondering what this thing was and why it was hugging her and why Severus looked ready to pee himself while laughing. "Dobby!" snarled Severus as he schooled his features in his primary scowl.

Dobby reluctantly let her go. "What—What are you? Who are you?" Hermione gasped out, clutching her tender ribs; the Dobby thing had a surprisingly strong grip. "Dobby is a free elf! You know that, Misses Granger, Potter's friend; you've known Dobby for six years."

"Elf?" Hermione's head was spinning and the biscuits churned in her belly. "Potter?"

"Dobby," hissed Severus.

"Six years?"

"Misses looks younger. Last time dobby seen her she was six heads tall and nineteen."

"DOBBY!" snarled Severus as Hermione sat on the edge of the bed. She felt sick. What was _wrong _with her? Was Dobby lying? Had she once been nineteen, not eleven? The thought caused bile to rise in her throat, bitter and hot, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

Closing her eyes, she willed the nausea to go away. _Too many biscuits for today, _she mused as the sickness ebbed away. She began to sweat. "Was it true?" she whispered and nearly screamed when a loud _crack _echoed around them.

An invisible gust of wind blew at her hair and clothes, along with the scent of baked breads ands sweet pumpkin juice. Severus wouldn't look at her; he kept his back to her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think—"

"What's _wrong _with me!?" she shrieked, stomping her foot. Her brain was working, turning gears round and round as fast as possible. Her emotions whirred as she thought.

She had been nineteen, yes, nineteen. There was a red-haired boy she hated. There was a red-haired girl with green eyes she envied; she'd never compare to her beauty and kindness. A gangly black-haired boy laughed at something she—big girl Hermione, woman Hermione, adult Hermione—said. The sound of music being played rang in her ears.

She felt as though she were being tossed in a rough sea, pulled back and forth in the waves, drowning, gulping down salty mouthfuls of seawater instead of sweet, fresh, precious air.

Hermione looked at Severus, the hard lines of his pale face clear as daylight, the way his hands trembled as he braced himself on the table, his lips drawn thin in a line, the furrow in his brow and bolted out the door.

* * *

She sank to the floor in his classroom and caught her breath, every inch of her sweat, menstruating body aching; she felt so disgusting and wanted nothing more than to run back and shower until her skin burned with the slightest brush. _He _lied _about everything._

**_Not really; he just didn't tell you._**

_He _should _have! Maybe he's a crazy lunatic who's convinced me I'm in some sort of school when in—_

**_What about all the students?_**

_True. I'm talking to myself and having a whole dang on conversation with my brain so maybe I'm the crazy one._

**_Maybe you just like talking to yourself._**

_That makes you crazy. _

**_Really? Didn't Bagshot talk to herself?_**

_She's a crazy cat-lady now. _

**_I happen to like cats! They're wonderful! Squashed face, orange fur, half-Kneazle, dreadfully loyal._**

_What on earth are you talking about? _

**_A cat I think we had before…whatever happened happened to change us into a little girl again…_**

_Are you seriously referring to me as us? Are we going to hop around in a loincloth and whisper to ourself, "My precious, my precious"?_

It was as she debated with herself that Hermione noticed a faint glow coming from a large room off to the side. She crawled to her weak legs and crossed the room. A hair's breath away, she glanced back at the front door and hesitated. If he caught her going in his private room, he'd be mad as crap.

She found she didn't care as she ducked into the room, closed the door behind her gently and continued forward. The room was round, with a wide ceiling and cobwebbed rafters; every inch of the walls were covered in vials of substances and powders. Some gleamed, quite a few glimmered and a few emitted sparkles inside; others sat harmlessly at the bottom of the vials, waiting to be used. Lacewings. Unicorn hair. Hippogriff feathers. Griffin scales. Thestral blood. Dragon venom.

Griffins? Unicorns? Dragons? What was this place? She paused at a large dresser that glowed softly. Gently, she pried open the door and came face to face with the strangest object: a thin, metal plate with a large dip in the middle, almost like a bowl, filled to the brim with a silvery substance that swirled and rippled.

She pressed a finger into the substance, cold slid into her veins like ice and she felt a tug at her gut. It felt like she was being sat on by a fat, jolly man with a twinkle in his eye and periwinkle socks that sang. Her hair whipped around her and she ended up spitting it out of her mouth as her feet met solid ground painfully hard. A hot sun beat down on her and her legs trembled as she collapsed onto her hands and knees.

What on earth was _that_?

"Look!"

A pretty girl with long, red hair and green eyes sat on a swing, laughing to a horse-faced girl as she grew a small flower in her hand. They swung their legs slowly. A few feet away, watching them from behind a bush, was a boy with long, lanky black hair and sallow skin…and a hawkish nose.

Severus Snape.


	17. 2-5

(I tried. I'm not sure about this chapter and, at the end, don't complain about the weeks I've skipped. I don't feel like writing that much.)

Soundtrack: Rapunzel by Emilie Autumn

_Child_

_2.5_

_Hermione_

SEVERUS SNAPE WAS crouched behind the bush and Hermione watched as the horse-faced girl smacked the flower out of the redhead's hand. "Freak!" she shrieked. "Come back, Lily! I'm going to tell Mummy your freak!" she yelled as the redhead fell off the swing and took off towards Severus's bush.

"You're not a freak," Severus said, standing up carefully. Hermione rubbed her eyes hard until tears streamed but the movie, play, whatever this was, didn't stop playing. "You're a witch and she's a Muggle." His lip curled and she was struck by how familiar it looked on his thin face.

Lily glared at him and then stalked away; Hermione watched in amazement as the images broke as though being water, rippling away. Tendrils of ink rained down from the sky in a rainbow of colors and the next scene was Severus lying on his back with Lily in the grass. "What's a Muggle?" she asked as they stared up at the clouds.

Hermione clenched her fists at the way he stared at her, his youthful face full of awe and dark eyes shining with love.

"A Muggle is non-magic folk. Human."

"Petunia doesn't like you."

The scene shifted again as Lily laughed at something Severus had said and now—it was Hogwarts, the Great Hall packed with gangly eleven year olds and Severus watched with slit eyes as Lily sat in the chair and an old, saggy hat sat upon her perfect, tamed hair. Hermione hated her for being beautiful; being everything she wasn't, for Severus worshiping the ground she walked on.

"Gryffindor!"

A cheer rose from a table with maroon and gold banners. Severus's head turned towards Lily as she walked towards the table and sat beside a glasses-wearing boy with a charming grin. "I'm James." "Lily." They shook hands and Hermione threw herself forward; she landed headfirst into the rock-hard floor.

Laughter exploded around Hermione and she turned behind her as James and a grey-eyed boy darted between Severus and Lily, knocking their books out of their hands. Severus handed Lily her things.

He was older, his hair longer and lankier, his eyes darker, his posture immaculate and his movements quick and precise, graceful even. She was older too, her hair glossier, prettier; her cheeks were scarlet when she smiled at James. Severus trembled with silent fury.

The scene exploded in a flurry of inky tendrils. As the ripples settled, a pale couple embraced Severus. The girl was tall, thin and porcelain; the boy was sharp, cool and marble. There was a girl behind them, as dark as the couple where light; her ebony hair was wild and curly and her dark eyes drank Severus in.

"Severus," crooned the pale girl. "Narcissa, Lucius…Bellatrix," Severus responded in a calm but nervous manner, hiding behind his hair. He was dark and would've gone lovely with the dark-haired witch behind Narcissa and Lucius, Hermione noted with a twinge of jealousy. "Call me Bella, please, dear Severus," purred the dark witch with a wicked smile.

Hermione gasped as a hand closed around her bicep and yanked hard, she nearly screamed at the pain. She hit something—a wall maybe—and then a voice as dark as sin itself hissed, deadly, in her face, "What the _hell _are you doing?" The stone hands gripped her biceps hard, digging into her skin. She tried to pull away but the man shook her until she stopped moving and slammed her hard into the wall.

Black eyes raged above her, face red with anger, a pulse pounding in the man's forehead. "Severus," she whispered, her voice fragile. He shook her again. "What the hell are you doing?" he snarled. His breath was sweet like mints.

"I-I didn't—"

He shook her and she felt tears build in her eyes. She screwed her eyes shut, felt all the fear building and then—A thud exploded in her ears, making them ring painfully. Severus lay against the filing cabinet, clutching his chest, wide-eyed. "Get out."

The door had barely closed behind her when she heard glasses shattering; she was so terrified that she barely noticed the blood staining the seat of her jeans.

* * *

She hid in the bathroom when the door slammed later that night. She could hear him swearing, loud and angry and frustrated and then: "I'm sorry." Two thuds of his shoes falling, the rustling of his robes being shed were the only noises for the longest time. She was curled up in the bathtub, the water boiling hot, hurting her skin but the pain felt good; Lord knew she deserved it though.

_I'm a terrible person._

"I'm sorry, Lily," he sighed in his tired voice and Hermione clenched her fist, her lips pursing as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She was gangly, with chicken-leg arms and legs; her hair was a rat's nest of damp hair; her eyes were too big for her ugly face and she was too golden, too tan, it looked unnatural. Her chest was small and her hips were boyish and she knew she couldn't try to be pretty like Lily if she wanted to.

Hermione waited until the noises had died down and the light clicked off to get out of the tub, dry off and get dressed. She felt clean and fresh but knew it wouldn't last long. And so she crept to her room as Severus slept and she wanted desperately to see his face, to gaze at him and know what Lily saw.

* * *

Four weeks flew by and she was 15, with a curvy figure, regular period and was currently attempting to wrestle her hair into a hair tie when Severus slammed open the bathroom door. "Miss Granger," he said, brushing his lanky, greasy hair away from his ebony eyes, adjusting his robes. She hadn't spoken a word to him since that day four weeks ago other than polite conversation that she usually kept short and cold. She met his eyes and brushed a curl into the pile at the back of her skull.

"Yes?"

"Your parents…they're here. In Dumbledore's office."

She tied off her hair into a bun, shot him a glare when he stared at the makeup on the counter—did he expect her to go naked-faced and ugly like she had in her younger years— and breezed passed him.

Her parents were waiting.


	18. 2-6

_Child _

_2.6_

_Hermione_

HERMIONE BUTTONED HER robes as she walked beside Severus, eyeballing the tall, lean boys who eyeballed her back as they strode determinedly down the hallway. She knew they looked strange together; she was all golden (too golden) and light haired and fair; he was all black, dark-haired and ebony. The two of them were like ying and yang as far as physical appearances went.

It didn't help that she was Gryffindor and he was Slytherin.

She adjusted her robes across her breasts and grasped the doorknob. Taking a calming breath, she pushed open the door. A dark-haired woman with blue eyes and a man with calculating brown eyes glowered at her. She kept her back straight under their glower until she realized they were glaring at _Severus_.

"Hermione," said the man behind the desk. She turned her head. Dumbledore, a tall, thin man with a crooked nose and pale blue eyes that twinkled, spread his arms in welcome, his bright blue robes nearly blinding her. "Good afternoon headmaster."

"Darling," said Jane Granger, "what's going on?"

"It seems your daughter has been…cursed. It's very old magic—" Severus began to explain but Dumbledore interrupted. "Lemon drop?" he asked, smiling merrily but the twinkle in his eyes never once faltered. Hermione slide her robes off, set them on the back of the chair and sank into the cushions. Her mother and father copied her; Severus remained standing, looking like he'd rather have a colonoscopy than be here. _Sure, _Hermione mused, that's _what he needs. _

"As I was _saying,_" hissed her professor, his black eyes flashing to Dumbledore with annoyance written clear as day on his face, "your daughter has been cursed. Now, it's very old and very Dark magic thus the books containing the counter curse have been lost or destroyed beyond repair." Severus paused, letting it sink into her parents.

"Hermione, darling, your wearing makeup," pointed out David Granger. "Yes, I am," she replied coolly, brushing a stray curl out of her face. "But you've never worn makeup," Jane said. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Perhaps I wish to be a different girl than I was before, perhaps I wish to be a different woman. Not an insufferable know-it-all Mudblood," she explained as though speaking of the weather. Dumbledore stiffened at the word _Mudblood _and Severus's nostrils flared and his eyes grew heated.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Had she hit a nerve?

"Miss Granger—"

"No, Headmaster. Don't _Miss Granger _me. I know what I am, a filthy Mudblood and I have to prove that I'm just as good as the pureblood prats by studying my ass off every damn day!" Hermione snapped and magic crackled in her ears like static as her chest heaved. She flexed her fingers and the glass globe spinning by itself behind Dumbledore exploded in a shower of shards. No one spoke; Jane and David were in shock; Severus was trembling and Dumbledore's smile slipped off his face and suddenly, Hermione remembered _why _he was the most powerful wizard in London. Bile rose in her throat, hot and fast, and the chair slipped out from under her as she swayed on the spot.

"Miss—"

"Hermione!"

Severus was beside her as she gripped the chair. "I'm so sleepy." "Side effect of wandless magic." He cast a glance over her head at her shocked parents. "I'm sorry," she blurted, clutching his robes. He stared down at her with a twisted expression she couldn't, for the life of her, decipher. "I'm sorry I'm not Lily," she said quietly, "I'm sorry that I'm a Mudblood, I'm sorry that all I've done is cause you trouble."

"You've never."

"What?"

"Caused me trouble. You've _never _caused me trouble." His eyes were pitch-black and seemed to be getting bigger and bigger until all she saw was black. She faintly heard her mother shrieking her name frantically but found herself too tired to care…

* * *

"Magic depletion, sir. Wandless magic…at fifteen! I've never seen anything like it in all my years, sir."

"She _is _the Brightest Witch of Her Age, after all. I'd expect nothing less from such a bright young woman."

"Severus?"

A hand squeezed hers in response to the man's voice; she slowly began to weave her way through the maze of darkness to see whose hand it was. She could smell fresh pine, ink and sweat and she thought of all those memories she had of Snape doubled over a cauldron, sweat shining on his porcelain flesh, ink-stained fingers calming stirring whatever he was brewing.

Her eyes opened and she stared up at the blank, white ceiling of the hospital wing. Her entire body ached; every muscle groaned in protest as she sat up slowly and wiggled her toes. A low, moaning laugh rose in her throat as her toes trembled and throbbed in pain. "I feel like I've taken on a hippogriff," she groaned. There was a snort that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Severus sat beside her, looking more rumpled than she'd ever seen him. His hair was tossed and windswept, his eyes looked bloodshot from lack of sleep and he wore an expression of alertness but she sensed how tired he was. "Wandless magic, Hermione," he said as he straightened, ran a hand through his hair—she longed to stroke her it to see if it was as greasy as it looked—and adjusted his crisp robes.

"Wandless?"

"Yes. You are, as we now, the youngest to perform it."

Her head swam and she sighed as she reclined in the bed. "Leave us be for a moment," she said to Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore. They gave her a shared worried look but she waved them off. "I'm sorry…for invading your privacy. I didn't know what it was. I didn't know _who _that was." She wrung her fingers.

"Hermione, you could _never _even _remotely _compare to Lily. Where Lily was quiet and gentle, you are passionate and fiery; although, gentle to a child who doesn't understand what he's done. When you see something wrong going on, you don't not say anything; you speak out for what you know to be right." He smiled, an honest smile that made her heart skip a little and tummy flutter. "You are brave like a Gryffindor and loyal like a Hufflepuff; you study as hard as a Ravenclaw but you have the intellect of a Slytherin, sneaky and cunning."

"Once the term starts, I suppose you'll want to go to your previous classes," he said, leaning back in his chair with his long legs outstretched like poles. "Yes," she said slowly as her memory clicked into place. "Severus, for a while now, I've been getting bits and pieces of my memory back. What happens when I get all of them back?" His black eyes met hers.

"Hermione, you must understand, you have through something even most grown wizards would piss their pants to be put through…you were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange."

_"Call me Bella, please, dear Severus."_


	19. 2-7

_Child _

_2.7_

_Hermione_

IT WAS THE sound of her screams that woke him, not the sound of his own screams. He ripped off the bed covers and sprang out of bed. Immediately, his heart was in his throat as he remembered her screams from Malfoy Manner; loud and raw and so full of pain and it scared the shit out of him to even _think _about possibly hurting her that much—

He tore down the hall and shoved open her door. She was curled up, her entire body shuddering violently, her screaming muffled by a pillow. There was a damp spot on the bed sheets and the groin of her gown and it took him a moment to realize it: she'd wet herself. "Please, please, don't hurt me…I didn't take anything." Oh god, her voice was so weak and tiny and it sent shards into his stomach viciously as she pulled her face from the pillow.

Moonlight pooled and shone across her skin.

Her face was bright red with tear stains, her nose ran as though she were a mere child and couldn't wipe her nose; her hair was matted with sweat in clumps and her entire body was gleaming with sweat.

She pulled the pillow over her groin and began to cry even more, her entire body trembling. "My arm…oh god, the pain…it hurts so b-badly…" she sobbed and then screamed again, thrashing violently when he raced over and held her against him.

This was beyond horrible; beyond terrible—this—this was inhumane.

She screamed again, her head thrashing, whipping back and forth and he didn't know what to do damn it. She was thrashing, her arms flailing and then he saw it: the bright pink, raised ugly name he grew to hate. _Mudblood. _

_How dare you mark her? _He thought as he kicked open the bathroom door; Hermione whimpered and flailed every few seconds in his arms. He unbuttoned her gown and pulled it over her head; her body was beautiful, so beautiful, with soft, full breasts and a plump tummy with soft skin and a nice weight, a heft to her body but he couldn't think of that now.

He peeled off her wet knickers and held her close in his arms as he drew the bath, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. He hated seeing her like this, so broken, so scared, and reduced to a frightened child that couldn't control her bladder. She trembled in his arms, sobbing, shaking still.

He stroked her mass of hair, whispering in her ear—anything, nothing, and everything to keep her calmed. He lowered her into the bath of warm water and she whimpered at the loss of contact. Oh _god, _this was _his _fault. Bile rose in his throat, hot and bitter and fast, but he looked into her bloodshot eyes and stroked her hair.

He slid off his shirt and wiped her face with a damp washcloth and began to bathe her. He kept his eyes on hers. When the only place to clean was below her waist and reminded himself that he was a professional and continued. She sat in the warming water, growing hotter as she slowly began to relax, humming when he poured water over her head.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Granger," he whispered against her cheek as he massaged shampoo and tangle-relaxants into her matted, soaked hair. He rinsed out her hair and Vanished the water; he cast a drying charm on her body and then left her hair down to dry. He helped her back to her room in a towel and dressed her in knickers and loose pajamas. He cleaned the bed with a quick Scourgify on her bed. He vanished the scent of urine and sweat and fear and helped her under the sheets.

She was still trembling when she reached out; her hand caught his tightly. "Don't leave me, Severus…don't leave me," she pleaded and his heart shattered as he gazed into her eyes and saw how terrified the normally steeled and grounded witch was.

He settled into the space beside her and let her hold his hand as she fell back into sleep.

* * *

He woke, bleary-eyed and jerky, with a jolt of panic. His arm burned viciously; more painful than anything he'd ever felt and he couldn't breathe. His chest was tight and constricted as the Dark Mark withered on his skin. Even after its master was dead, the brand still moved and wriggled on his skin, pouring hot, Dark poison into his veins, awakening the Darkness in his soul more and more and he was afraid to loose his cool and hurt—

He sat up and eased out of the bed, looking at the sleeping girl—woman, really—in the bed, a wisp of longing burning bright inside him that he squashed down. _No, _he told himself sourly, watching her sleep, her hand clenching and unclenching, searching for his hand, _I will not…I won't…Always. Always. Always _her. _My Lily. You _aren't _her…you aren't! Damn it all to hell!_

He slipped out of the room, peeling off his robe once he got to his chambers and then he sat on the bed. He stared at his arm—the wretched, damnable thing wouldn't stop moving, withering, mouth opening and closing in a mocking grin—the snake's tongue flickered at him at it wound in and out of the skull's mouth. Soiled.

He was _soiled. _He was filthy. He was eviland Dark and he'd corrupt the light inside of her. He was sick and disgusting and he would only drag her down with him.

He'd bring an end to the beautiful light glowing within her, smother it with his Darkness and then he'd smother the light in her, her life light, her life, her hopes, and dreams.

He'd douse the fire in her eyes with a lid, cutting off the oxygen; he'd drag her to hell and back; he'd kill everything that was good in her and he'd make her wither away into nothing, until she was nothing but a shell of the girl he knew.

He'd be the death of her.

He'd kill everything, anything that _was _she; she was innocent, pure, light; he was tainted, soiled, dark.

His Darkness would end the Light inside her.

He fell into the oblivion of sleep just as the sun peeked outside and bathed everything it touched in blood-red.


End file.
